Uncharted
by JamCBlade
Summary: Basically a story of Shepard and Thane becoming closer between missions and other things thrown in their way – except this Shepard isn't the the most normal person to be around. Thane/FemShep - of sorts. - DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note:** The personality of my S. Shepard is based on two people; one is the sheer insanity that is Captain Jack Sparrow (not that my writing will ever be that good), and the other a close friend of my aunt who despite all the real horrible hardships in her life had managed to keep a cheerful disposition and a happy outlook on life. I love her to bits!

Also, if such combination of characteristics in a person is not to your liking better turn back now :)

**Note #2:** English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

Uncharted

Segment I ~ Here be Dragons

*ch1.

Normandy's armory could seemingly account for time of its own. Whenever a need arose for one of the squad members to personalize their weaponry, or just clear their minds, this was the place where they would come. And surprisingly enough, encounters between them coming and going were a rare thing. Perhaps that was reason enough as to why he was a deck up and not in the life support despite the fact that the air there soothed his lungs and made drawing breath easier.

This, as he had quickly learned, was not to be a single mission, planned and executed – but a string of minor, often violent confrontations, and Shepard has already proved a demanding commander. Thane rarely made mistakes, but under his new employer's command there was even less room make one. At least, from what he had witnessed so far, when it came to missions' trials and tribulations she gave as much as she took. And Shepard took as much as she could from her recruits.

His eyes turned to the side at the sharp hiss of the door.

Shepard.

She walked in, with clicks of her heels drumming against metal surface and faintly humming, datapad in one hand and a cup of coffee in other - always a different mixture he noted through smell, to accompany her mood though as of yet he couldn't discern which one went with which.

"Mr. Krios," she greeted him with a half-smile and twinkle in her eyes. Today she was in a good mood. It showed so well it was unmistakable.

"Shepard," he returned watching her for a brief moment put down her items before she picked up her personal pair of guns.

"Tinkering, tuning or just playing?" She asked placing heavy pistols before her. This pair was custom made for Shepard specifically, even if by looking at them one would not differ their design from any other. Before many a mission she'd come down here and tinker with them, improving, making them deadlier.

Thane nodded at her oddly framed question, "Our confrontations as of late have become more frequent and unpredictable. It is good to be prepared."

"Perhaps less subtle than what you're used to?" Shepard cocked her head slightly, her hands dismantling her guns with precise expertise; her eyes even had a sleepy look to them as she worked.

"Yes," he answered slowly. Assassins were solitary creatures and he had little experience when it came to team-oriented full-blown warfare. Fortunately, Sofia Shepard seemed to excel in the field. "Meticulous preparation was necessary before any assignment. Location layout, target's habits… One does not simply rush into it."

"The advantage of dealing with the unknown is that you can let your mind wander," she murmured and glanced at the faintly glowing schematics spread on the table, various parts accompanying them, and then at the weapon in his hands. M-97 Viper sniper rifle. Shepard found the name oddly appropriate given who was using it.

"You are making good use of our host's upgrades, I should hope."

"Generously so," he inclined his head running his hand over the sniper rifle.

Cerberus wasn't holding back when it came to researching, purchasing or recovering any new technology that would prove useful against the Collectors and necessary to make sure Shepard's team was always equipped with deadliest choices of weaponry; and Shepard had even less problem to, in her own words, 'milk them dry'.

"When in Rome…" she murmured with a satisfied smile. Her fingers played, going over her own choice of upgrade specifications. Thane did not reply and comfortable silence settled between them as they worked, passing materials between each other. Upgrade schematics for their respective weapons giving off soft glow from surrounding consoles.

A light spin of datapad across smooth surface of the table, to point out at a weak spot in their shields; slight, if unorthodox, improvement on targeting systems; old school knowledge solidified with experience. Small movements, quiet one-two word conversation, wisdom explored, advice shared – one of few times her calmer, serious nature would surface. It was surprisingly easy atmosphere given their quiet comments revolved around most efficient ways to kill someone.

She had shared one of her specialties, cryo ammo with him and the rest of her team. It was an excellent way to keep enemies still as she moved close in for the finish. She liked using it in combination with her newly acquired inferno ammo. He himself had a practice of coming in close contact with his kill but Shepard had taken that to a new level. Her way was dangerous and reckless – and had a very high success rate.

"Commander," Joker's voice cut through the silence of the armory, "we'll be reaching the Collector ship in fifteen minutes."

"Information is appreciated very much Joker," she replied softly eyes and fingers still on her guns.

Ah, that must be the reason why she had come at this time to the armory. She was to head out again. Shepard was always the one heading out.

"I had not expected any confrontation with the Collectors aboard their ship so soon," his voice rasped suddenly, his hand rested on the muzzle before sliding gently down to trigger guard. "The trip to the Omega 4 Relay would seem almost redundant now."

"Hardly," not looking up at him Shepard responded to sense of remorse in his voice. "It's still a ship, not their base. Even if by any stretch of boundless imagination we could end all our problems today, we still don't have the firepower to take it out of commission. At best, further information is all we're going to obtain." Her eyes snapped up to his. "Are you interested in volunteering for an exciting stroll aboard a ship of as of yet unknown race that had plundered and pillaged humans for better part of two years with no one noticing and could lead to an almost certain death?" She punctured her rapid question with a raised eyebrow.

Thane blinked. Twice.

If he were to be completely honest with himself, listening to Professor Solus and Commander Shepard speak in tandem – as he had heard them on a, fortunately, lone occasion – could account to one of most confusing moments of his life. It was heavily headache inducting as well.

"Certain death is why I am here, Shepard," was his simple, true answer.

Shepard cracked a smile, question still in her eyes, along with amusement. "That one-way trip is yet to come," she said with mirth.

He pondered the offer.

"This is to be information gathering only?"

Sofia rubbed the underside of her chin thoughtfully barrel of her loaded gun pressed dangerously close to her cheek, eyes glazing over in rapid deliberation. "Preferably yes. Probably not. I need not put a strain to my mind to imagine many things that could, would, will go wrong."

Door hissed open once more. Shepard didn't even look up with her mind hastily at work. That did not prevent her from speaking up first.

"Miss Chambers, what unspeakable horrors do you carry there?"

"Technical evaluations from engineering, professor Souls' urgently marked notes, Dr. Chakwas list of medicinal chemicals that need replenishing and a message from councilor Anderson," yeoman listed almost enthusiastically, and sorted datapads before her on the table, duties their commander would have to bash her head against some time later. "Nothing much."

"'Nothing' she says," Shepard clicked her tongue. "Your 'nothing' will send me to second death sooner than the Collectors will."

"Cerberus would certainly cut my paycheck were I to do that commander."

"Cerberus should also explain to me in plain words for what purpose do I have a secretary and a second in command, when all the paperwork still finds a way to my desk."

"You would have to ask Illusive Man that, commander," yeoman answered in a practiced secretarial manner. A professional trait of her personality which surfaced easily despite her generally informal character. "Also, Garrus would like to see you in the main battery room. He looked all fired up."

"All fired up, you say? I sense a wasted opportunity for a hug there? For shame Miss Chambers, for shame."

"Should I file that order for future reference, commander?" Kelly asked, all false innocence even if light blush did color her cheekbones.

"Provided you corner him in such fashion that would not result with a premature hole in ship's hull while he performs a mad dash for safety – snuggle away." Sofia waved her hand in dismissal.

Thane observed the interaction between two women with detached interest. Shepard certainly had some peculiar ways of driving her flock, so to say. Not the strangest way by far – in his work as an assassin he had witnessed some truly uncharacteristic methods in running personnel. He, though, had never expected to be tangled into one as such. At least Shepard kept away from more physical means of 'encouragement'. So far he could tell.

"Right away commander," yeoman presented a mock salute at such a prospective order before practically bouncing away. She even managed to send a rosy smile in drell's direction before disappearing.

Shepard cocked her head watching the woman leave, red hair brushing against her shoulder, "Well, I guess she had settled on her opinion of you." Her eyes turned back to him, lips spreading to a bonnie version of cheesier smile, "Memorize the location of vents around the ship well, Mr. Krios. They just might come in handy in the near foreseeable future."

His expression remained unchanged, save for the barely noticeable uplift of eyeridges. "I'll be sure to take it into consideration, Shepard."

Shepard chuckled and packed her guns. "Rendezvous at the shuttle, yes?" She asked but didn't really wait for an answer before she turned on her heel and strolled out of the room.

Thane returned his attention to his weapon. With Amonkira's blessing his aim with it will be true.

*/*/*/*/*


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note:** I've taken certain liberties regarding the ending of the mission with the Collectors' ship; and there's some dialogue from the game.

**Note #2:** English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

*ch2.

Dying star pulsed.

Blue and red – it made for a staggering effect. Why, she wouldn't mind having one herself.

"You know," Shepard started eyes focused on pitch black ceiling, as it appeared to her at the moment, "it never ceases to amaze me in these little talks of ours, how utterly firm you are in your belief that throwing me to the wolves will accomplish anything."

Silence stretched as he lightly shook the ashes off his cigar into the ashtray, most conveniently placed on the armrest, "I needed the collectors to believe they had the upper hand. Telling you could have tipped them off in any number of ways." A smirk, "Besides, I wouldn't have sent you in if I didn't think you could succeed."

Sofia let out a mild sound of doubt.

There was something decidedly vulture-like in his movements, Shepard concluded. One, very old and very smart, who surveyed and arranged battles for the gain of biggest, fattest, meatiest corpse available. Not that it was entirely all he was about. It was but one of his facets. One quite prominent and disagreeable.

She allowed herself to rub her left shoulder, freshly patched after most recent race through the not so abandoned Collector's ship, "My team of 'unique individuals' will hardly be able to accomplish anything if you keep hammering me into situations where I do not know which one of their abilities would prove most useful." Indeed, incidents like the most recent one reminded her steadily that many things still needed thorough planning. Thorough planning required information – information which was deliberately being withheld from her. Information that could have prepared her for toxic surprise Collectors graciously bestowed her team with.

Smoke curled around vulture's cybernetic eyes, narrowed, as Shepard relaxed hers. Apparently, there was some disagreement between them regarding the way this matter should be conducted.

"You may not like being on the receiving end – neither would I – but the facts are with me. As much as we try to avoid them these decisions need to be made. But more importantly, it paid off," he paused, drawing a smoke luxuriously from his cigar, "EDI confirmed our suspicions."

Shepard's eyebrows shot up. Grudges had to be put aside because now they were getting somewhere.

*/*/*/*/*

Even before, during her chase for Saren, Shepard had come to an enlightening insight how listening to her crew's musings always proved to both elevate boredom and bring insight. Two for the price of one as, it were. It was a good bargain. Shepard especially liked when good bargains hopped in her way.

Jacob, for instance disliked the approach the Illusive Man took. In fact, Jacob disliked too many things about Cerberus' way of running operations Shepard could only count ticking hours until the matter would become too heavy burden on his conscience.

The good professor, on the other hand, was too much of a pragmatist to let it sidetrack him. It was after all a necessary risk to gain necessary access to necessary data banks. It did not have his full approval, of course. Normandy, his work and he himself, were still exposed to heavy risk.

Miranda's loyalties were far too deep engraved into her mind to ask questions. Sofia was fully aware that a shift might have happened after some recent events on Illium but a time for a complete change was yet to come. She could wait.

As for Shepard herself...

"Quite understandable – not that continued usage of such tactic will have favorable results for his health, and ours." The commander quite leisurely perched herself on the table, one leg bent under her, and turned to blue hologram "Now EDI, about this iff?"

"My analysis is accurate, Shepard," the AI replied in clipped voice. "I have also determent the approximate location of the Collector home world based on navigational data from their vessel."

In place of Normandy's graphic, a map of galaxy flickered on and, lazily reluctant to get off the table as she was, Sofia twisted a little to get a better view. Cross-like marker moved around the map until it settled on the galactic core.

"That can't be right," Miranda sidestepped the commander hogging space upon the table.

Shepard leaned over a bit, "Not so surprising when you consider all the matters at hand."

"Can't be. The core is just black holes and exploding suns. There are no habitable planets there."

"Could be an artificial structure. Space station protected by powerful mass effect fields and radiation shields."

"Even the Collectors don't have that kind of technology."

Shepard carefully watched her crew lapse into argumentative discussion, with pros and cons being tossed around like crumpled napkins. Mordin's restless movements expressed even more so than with other salarians, Jacob's persistent calm mixed with eagerness, Miranda's aggressiveness covering her fear… She brushed her fingers across her lips in thought.

"Sovereign did," the commander stated. "The Citadel, mass relays too. Space station surrounded by black holes? To them must be a trifle."

"The logical conclusion is that a small safe zone exists on the far side of the relay," EDI supplied. "A region where ships can survive. Standard relay transit protocols would not allow safe transport. Drift of several thousand kilometers is common and would be fatal in the galactic core. The reaper iff must trigger the relay to use more advanced encrypted protocols."

Sofia pushed herself off the table, measured steps taking her around it, "Can anyone else imagine quite easily as I the Normandy going 'puff'" she used her hands to gesticulate the possible event, "should we test the relay now? Yes? No? I suppose it is settled then."

Jacob shook his head, "Sooner or later we'll need that iff. I say, why wait?"

"It's a derelict reaper," Miranda was quick to protest, point out. "What if the collectors are waiting for us? We may want to be fully prepared before we take that kind of risk."

Shepard let out a chuckle, one reminiscing of cat with a yarn. "Any number of creatures could await us at any number of places. There are other matters to pursue for the moment," Shepard replayed in a surprisingly plain manner. "Iff will not walk away on us."

Taking that as clue that their commander has made a decision the galaxy map flickered out, replaced with graphic of Normandy, as the three of her crew dispersed. Shepard's eyes went to one of them.

"Professor," she called to salarian scientist before with the sound of light cracking propelled herself a short distance, through the table and in front of him resulting in rapid blinking on alien's part. "A moment of your time, if you would."

"Careless usage of biotics Shepard. Dangerous. Not looking forward to putting you back together," he shook his head displeased, frown setting over his large eyes.

"But it has been done once already. A second time should pose no difficulty. Still, the concern in your eyes gives me fuzzy feelings," Sofia crooned at the very much un-amused alien scientist. Subduing her smile she proceeded in a more neutral tone, "Now, regarding that minuscule thing we talked about. What say you? Can your vast intellect manage it?"

Mordin waved his hands dismissively, "Impossible. Too much to do. Latest development is very interesting. Looking forward to further analysis of samples you've brought."

"Ah, what can I say?" she gestured at herself, taking her place in front of him, blocking his way to the lab. "I go through great lengths to be of help, even when quite unwilling, I assure you. Painful too."

"Still, it helps," Mordin nodded satisfied, walking over the tone of her voice with cheerful ease, "Will inform you of progress. Might take a few days. Never can tell with Reaper technology."

"Naturally, professor," Shepard took a somber step back. "Your already lacking sleeping schedule is suffering. I can understand if my request is the straw to break the camel's back."

This gravely insulting assumption, which surprisingly enough got translated in a manner most comprehensive, by the commander made him pause. It showed. Mordin was very expressive.

"Certainly not sleeping! Gas traces from Collector ship require my full attention." He went on quickly, taking in a sharp breath, "Far too similar to seeker swarms and plague on Omega to be a chance. Strangely, it affects humans as well. Highly unusual course for Collectors to take given their actions."

She turned to look at him and nodded, "By all means, new filters in helmets are an absolute must, I agree. Much to my fortune, it did not appear to be lethal in intent. Slight dizziness, slowed reflexes and some vomiting." Shepard rubbed her chin, "Their desire to have me in one piece is great. How queer."

Solus frowned, "You, yes. Everyone else – expendable. In danger. This new pollutant could prove fatal in combat. No efficient protection for the team equates low chances of mission success."

Sofia looked at him, nonplused for a moment, and arched a red eyebrow.

"By all accounts professor, Mission success highly depends on an efficient commander – and a happy commander is an efficient commander," she countered with a smirk and he pulled back slightly taken aback by her persistence to pursue the matter.

"Hmm. Will look into it. Make no promises." It was not to say she had won the argument, but rather that he could spend his time in a more productive manner than standing in a hallway arguing with ship's commander.

"Much appreciated, professor," Shepard murmured.

Shoulders slumping just barely he sighed and walked away, looking as if he just had to deal with a petulant youth whose grasp of science and responsibility involved a carrot and a stick, and not necessarily one with another.

Worse yet, that abysmal logic actually worked.

*/*/*/*/*

Introspection.

When remembering every detail was possible, it came by so easily it was unavoidable.

_* Earlier, aboard the Collectors' ship…_

_The Justicar pressed on, cleaning the path before them; Shepard diverted attention from behind; and he snipped off those too far off for either of them._

_The commander moved quickly, giving them cover from Collectors, many Husks and a Praetorian fast behind them. From left and right, quick maneuvers to draw away the enemy fire. Her, they wanted in one piece. For them, they couldn't care less._

_The shuttle was close but they were pressed hard._

_Pilot on the comm, "I'm not loosing another Normandy!"_

_Collector, covered with bright gold, glowing lines. He held a rifle, aiming for her, Shepard. Always Shepard._

_He pulled his own. Aimed. It was getting hard to breathe. He could feel the pain in his bones. The shimmering Collector was open. He pulled the trigger. A blur of silver and red. *_

Not once had he deluded himself with the idea that this could be easy, that every assignment would end smoothly. But mistakes like that should never have been made in the first place. He never should have missed.

_* "Missed? Oh, you've hit something alright," she laughed,_ _strained sound falling from her lips, tapped her rose colored shoulder. Torn metal, blood and flesh. *_

He did not think that Arashu would not forgive him this. Nor should she.

To shoot his own employer? Thugs did things like that, not professionals. Not him.

Not even early in his carrier had he made a mistake comparable to this.

He was aware he wasn't the only one being affected by the sudden intrusion of foul tasting contaminant in his helmet. Samara was unsteady on her feet as well. Shepard had all but ripped her helmet off, coughing and in spasm. It was no excuse still. His senses might have been impaired through Collectors' biological toxin released in the surrounding space but his extensive training covered the means, the ways, breathing techniques to prevent foreign matter from taking over his wits so quickly.

Breathing.

The irony was not lost on him. He could easily guess from whence the problem came.

_* "Normady has state-of-the-art medical bay. And a mad scientist as a bonus." _

"_If the finest medical minds in the hanar Illuminated Primacy can't solve the problem, I doubt your ship's medic could." His words were cold, final._

_She rolled her eyes, shook her head._

_A whisper._

"_Ye of little faith." *_

His shoulders slouched for a fraction of a second before the sound of door hissing open and light footsteps hummed rhythmically through the room. It stopped, paused behind him and he could feel clear eyes probing and tracing lines at the back of his neck with unbridled intensity he had come to identify with Commander of Normandy.

"I sense deeply rooted masochism in you," her voice came from behind his shoulders, light, amused. "There has to be, to keep going over it like that."

The peculiar way she had framed the sentence made it obvious to him that she had informed herself of his species. It was what he would expect from someone with Shepard's reputation.

"Shepard," was his curt answer. Short, simple and not inviting. Facing her was something he had prepared himself for, yet something he feared at the same time.

She moved into his eyesight, next to the window overseeing the mass effect core. He quickly observed that her movements were unhindered, just a twinge stiff when she would move her arm. Dr. Chakwas had done a good job.

"You have informed yourself."

She crossed her arms, her sore shoulder twitched, and leaned against the glass, "To humans, it is a blessing to forget. I find the prospect of being able to remember everything daunting. I do have to wonder, is there a point to it?"

"You make presumptions regarding my thoughts, Shepard," he frowned, rarely happening tension bubbling to the surface of his all encompassing calm. Last time she had sparked a reaction similar to this was when she had compared drell to slaves. Except this time it was not her ignorance the root of the problem, but his shame.

She was quiet, regarding him quite carefully. More carefully then she had since his coming on board. Having a professional of his caliber in her team was certainly something different. Next to him and Miranda, Shepard predicted migraine and coffee on the horizon.

Coffee was a trusted friend of hers. Migraine was an unannounced guest who liked to put up its dirty shoes on her precious coffee table.

"I can name a number of blunders that have happened today, the least one being related to you," she started, tone of her voice strongly steel like. He had not heard her use it before, but that observation hardly registered properly at the moment. "Unless you're going to stun me into silence by telling me that blowing off my shoulder was a hidden tactic of yours you simply forgot to share."

He could not be certain if her intention was to goad him or disgrace him further but the effect was largely the same. "It was not. But it was a mistake," his raspy voice had an edge of a serrated knife. "One I would not have made lightly."

Once more silence settled between them, and this time there was no comfort in it.

"Very well," with a little twist of her feet Shepard slid into a seat in front of him, fingers intertwined and expression lulled into fake seriousness. "For the purpose of smooth sailing in the future, let us clear the air then."

His dark eyes were expressionless, Sofia suspected that had more to do with his disposition than their pitch black color, and rested on her.

"In terms of blame… It was quite clearly your fault for pulling the trigger when you did – you might want to prevent your attention wandering off next time like a chick in flight. Subsequently, it was my fault for getting in the way of a freelancing experienced sniper – I'm usually not that suicidal, you have my word on it. Finally, it was the Collectors' fault for generally being oppressively disagreeable lot who abducted humans across the galaxy, thus encouraging us to board their ship where they had every intention to have us killed by releasing the toxin which had our bodies reacting not the way they're supposed to – because I shall inform you right now, and you can bet in anything you hold dear in it, there is no way you'd ever be fast enough to hit me," she replied with a perfectly straight face, frown only settling at the very end.

In a short moment of silence and background hum of the engine she let the words settle in his mind the way they were in hers. Provided they didn't get lost in translation. Sofia found the prospect amusing.

"On this ship, only one person has any business of being infallible, and that person is not you," she said and this time, when he searched her face, there was no trace of mockery there, nor there was any in her voice. "Satisfied?" she prompted.

"No," he said in a resigned tone of non-appreciation, but a moment later lowered his eyes to his clasped hands. "But I see your point."

Sofia Shepard shrugged, an easy grin on her face. In the end, that was all that really mattered.

*/*/*/*/*


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note:** English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

*ch3.

The Citadel, at the same time both elegant and pretentious in design. Exceptionally functional of course – but that was given considering its original builders. Now that she thought about it a bit better, with its heavy gold and black colors from distance it reminded her greatly a smoother, less threatening version of Collectors' ship.

It has been good two years, and then some, since the last time she had set her eyes on this place. It had not changed, just as she imagined it had not changed since the time Reapers have first built it. Not that anyone living on the Citadel would acknowledge it. On a strictly personal note, she had little desire to visit this place beyond bare essentials necessary for the crew, ship and some for herself. It reminded her of little more than an Omega with a facelift, same soul with prettier eyes. Nothing one should loose a head over.

Leaning a bit to look through the windows of the bridge she spotted not too far away, reminiscent of a large devilfish, the flagship Destiny Ascension easily floating by between heavy clouds of nebula concealing both structures. Looking at it developed a bad taste in her mouth. Among many a useless ship in the fleet she'd point out this particular one to be near the pinnacle of uselessness.

Shepard leaned against Joker's chair, "EDI, ship-wide comm, if you'd please."

"Very well, commander," synthetic voice answered immediately.

"Good morning, afternoon and evening my crew; this is your captain speaking. We have just docked one of the less glorious places in the galaxy and there are a few matters to be resolved before you gents and ladies take some well deserved shore leave." The captain let out a dramatic little cough. "Now, to minor duties that need be performed before any relaxation can be have; due to generous abuse and overkill of showers at times most inappropriate – fuel is not the only thing that needs constant replenishing here people – crewmen Patel, Goldstein and Hadlay will help our favorite jack-of-all-trades – not talking about you Suze don't get your nonexistent panties in a bunch," – Shepard cheerfully, and quite correctly, imagined engineering deck reverberating with one very loud 'fuck you' at that moment – "Mr. Gardener shop, buy and bring ingredients for some edible meals, turian and quarian specialties included. Thank you for flying, serving and enduring death-like situations aboard Normandy SR-2, and remember, you can get drunk but don't get killed or spill out your codes."

Finishing her all around warming sermon, Shepard pulled her helmet on.

"Nice speech," the pilot drawled.

"Sarcasm is growing strong in you, Joker? Give it a little more time and you'll be more compatible with EDI than you might even imagine."

He let out a little disgusted 'yeesh' followed by a shudder. Instead he twisted a bit to take a look at weapons strapped on Shepard's back and hips. She probably had one out of every available portable weapon on the ship with her.

"That's some heavy weaponry to take on a Council meeting, commander. You planning an attack?" Joker noted not trying to mask his mock light tone.

"Self defense only. This is, after all, the Citadel we're talking about," Sofia sniffed taken aback, splayed hand resting in her chest. "Can I even name the number of times I was shot on Citadel? No attempts. Clear shots."

"Uh-huh, as if any of them got away with it," he joked when a discreet, yet meaningfully menacing cough interrupted him. "Anyway, those wouldn't happen to have anything to do with certain turian councilor?"

"Joker," Shepard was aghast. "Give me some well deserved credit here, my friend. I would certainly not try anything that blatant." Glancing around in a suspicious manner she leaned over pilot's chair lowering her voice to a scheming tune, "Besides, gunning him down would be much too painless, quick and not all too enjoyable."

Joker laughed but EDI, with her blue lights flashing, was of another opinion, "It would also cause serious damage to current political structure in the galaxy, Commander. The probability that such course would hinder any potential action against the Collectors and Reapers is very high."

"Great. Now I'm forbidden to have happy thoughts as well."

Chuckling Shepard, with every intention to get off the ship and leave the pair to their sordid affair, turned around to see her second-in-command walking fiercely around CIC. Sheprad quickly surmised that the bridge lacked good hiding places.

"You'll have to exorcise your demon on your own Joker, mine is just getting ready to sink her claws into me," she patted his shoulder before walking short distance to CIC where her Cerberus operative and subordinate looked like she would crush something – namely her – to the size of Rubik's cube, and use her much for the same entertainment purpose. "Miranda," she started sweetly, "may I be of any kind of service to you before politics takes hold of me?"

"I am questioning how wise this is Shepard," was immediate and resolute answer complete with arms crossed over her chest and fierce blue eyes staring her down.

"This? This what?" Sofia frizzled innocently though her helmet.

There was a minuscule, perfectly concealed twitch on Miranda's flawless face, "Letting the crew off board, commander."

"Ah yes. That."

Lawson's customary tilting of her head was followed by an intake of breath, a sure sign she was on the good path to frustration. Each time Miranda had any kind of conversation with Commander Shepard she had to remind herself that what they were doing here was for the greater good of humanity; and furthermore, how patience was a virtue.

Funnily enough, back that day on Illium when she had rammed her omni-tool into elevator console to make it go faster Shepard's fine-tuned voice told her much the same thing, _'Patience is a virtue, Miss Lawson. Exercising it can bare fruits.'_

Miranda let her hands fall to her side and shook her head, perfect dark hair perfectly not falling about randomly, "I have to wonder if it's always going to be word games with you."

"Yes. But I am not doing such at the moment," Shepard allowed herself a smile under her helmet. "You do not believe they deserve some time off ship? Or are you concerned that some of our more prolific guests might not wish to return?"

"The later had crossed my mind, yes."

"The crew needs this," Sofia's voice turned a notch more serious. "I need them to need this. Because if they don't need this, they won't be needing for much else in the future."

Miranda was highly tempted to roll her eyes – she managed to hold back though. No more word play, Shepard had said. Of course, and Joker and the AI will call a truce and become best buddies on the ship.

"I see I'll have to take your word on this one," but to that she didn't receive any answer and the helmeted expression wasn't giving away. Instead she proceeded in a more business manner as she followed the other woman to the airlock, "Will you be off board for long, commander?"

"Depends. I have a Council to shock, Anderson to gossip with, death status to revoke and fishes to buy," Shepard counted on her fingers. "I'd say that counts as a full schedule."

"Fishes?"

"Fish-tanks are usually filled with fishes, are they not? And there is a reliably big fish-thank in the loft."

This was Shepard's famous way of sorting out priority. Miranda knew that the commander was deliberately pushing her to a new limit but for what purpose, beyond her twisted sense of humor, she could not grasp.

"How you become the most successful military leader in recent history, I'll never know."

"Oh, the stories I could tell you," Shepard chuckled and to her surprise, Miranda actually smiled a little.

"I'll take you up in that; one day, when we're not at the edge of our seats constantly. Commander," Lawson greeted before with a practiced spin she returned to her duties, some of which probably included reports for their all seeing benefactor. With an honest and amused smile Shepard too turned on her heel and walked out of the ship.

Barely out on the docking bay, plans buzzing in her head and with the attention span of a child in a toy store, she almost kissed the ground as Jack all but plowed roughly into her making her stumble around a little before regaining her footing.

"Words is," the commander called out, "that Chora's Den has been closed. I do not know what gentlemanly cesspool has risen in its place but Omega would certainly hit you harder if you can afford to wait until then."

The biotic turned around and with equal rush of adrenaline bounded back to Normandy's commander.

"Just a little heads up, I should think," Shepard let her know, nonchalant in the face of rage only Jack could bring. There was strange, malicious light to her dark eyes. 'Hostile' was not the right word. That would only imply her attitude towards everyone; but here even 'despise' could pass only lightly.

"I'd figure you'd know better by now but you just love to fuck with your life, don't you."

"I find myself lacking that many other things to fuck with, Jack," Shepard replied, ice covering her laugh. Her voice lowered a notch as she leaned over to biotic woman, "For me, this is mandatory."

Jack pulled back, eyes narrowed at the red visor that in turn reveled nothing. She snorted, "I figured it was just an act but fuck me, you really talk like a fucking pussy."

"Well, we learned from the best, didn't we Jack," Shepard light voice mocked. Muscles around biotic's mouth twitched and for a moment the tattooed woman looked like she would attack; but she just pushed past the commander roughly, fist ramming sideways into her shoulder.

"I need to get off this crackship," Jack hissed.

Sofia did nothing as the woman moved away from her and watched her disappear down the docking bay in whirl of dark colors with a dash of electric blue, Shepard was reminded heavily of a mass relay – all powered up and no ship to jump in sight. Sofia made a mental note to check the whereabouts of said ship later. It would be tragic incarnate were Jack to miss it.

*/*/*/*/*

As far as he could remember there were always humans in C-Sec, few he could number to have had any semblance of a rank. Not so now. Captain Bailey was the living proof of an officer who went along with bureaucratic crap so long it didn't put a road block on doing his job. Something he always wanted to do but dared not until Shepard came along. Still, it did make him wonder, however briefly, why more of his kind had not applied for the jobs.

Getting the info from his old contacts in this place, out of those few which remained or were alive even, was not so difficult. There was some suspicion involved considering he had just stepped out of the ship bearing an emblem of a well-known terrorist organization – a well-known terrorist organization with a not so benevolent outlook towards all non-humans, not to forget. But to glean as much information about Fade, or Harkin as it were, before going to squeeze the answers the way he would squeeze air out of his lungs – because that's exactly what Garrus was going to do – this was an excellent place to start his task. To finish it, it'll require commander's presence, as they have agreed.

"Shepard, come in," he called and waited for a moment but only received silence as a response. "Shepard?" Still with no answer. Frustration rising, he contacted the AI, "EDI, locate and contact the commander."

"My apologies Officer Vakarian, but I am unable to detect Commander Shepard at the moment," the AI replied somberly.

"Unable or unwilling," Garrus muttered taking his hand of the comm and shook his head. Typical bloody Shepard. She probably put EDI under strict orders not to tell anything. By now he should have been long used to her abruptness and tendency to 'vanish' into thin air, and though rarely was he ever at the receiving end of it, he could still remember Chief Williams raising high hell and water aboard the old Normandy at Shepard's unpredictable behavior.

He knew for certain that she was supposed to see the Council, one of the reasons they've docked the Citadel in the first place, but that was few hours back. She could have chosen to either frolic one of the Citadel Wards or be back on the ship. Either way was not helpful to him. Turning his head spotted one of his fellow crewmembers coming out form the direction of C-Sec Customs.

"Thane," he called out to him stopping his track. The assassin noticed the way turian moved, jerky impatient motions right in front of the C-Sec station. "Have you seen Sheaprd?" Garrus asked, light, anxious tittering to his voice. Immediately, Thane's mind called back images of their last conversation.

"Not today, no," he answered simply and turian let out a quiet 'damn' but he picked it up anyway. "Have you tried the comm?" He offered politely in return. Garrus waved his hand dismissively.

"I did. She switched it off. Normandy could go down in flames and there'd be no way for us to contact her." Frustration was evident in his voice as he paced about, a contrast to Thane's almost immobile stance.

"That is a strangely careless choice on her part," the drell concluded. Carelessness was not an attribute he'd subscribe to Shepard. Obsessive planning suited her more.

Turian snorted in agreement, "Yeah, but I'd dare you to tell that to her face."

From what little Thane knew of her so far, she'd likely laugh, say 'how very true' and then go her merry own way.

"Shepard, was it?" the voice of Captain Bailey cut in as he moved pass them. Both aliens turned to look at the man, miniature console in his hands and a somewhat grim expression on his face. "Redhead, has a twisted way of talking, grins like a Cheshire cat on steroids?"

"That is an accurate enough description," Thane commented dryly.

"She passed by here alright, came to revoke her death. Scared half of my men in the process." He shifted, "She said she had unfinished business with the council. Could involve guns for all I know." Something blipped on the small screen and he looked down, "And it looks like her Spectre status has just been reinstated. Huh, must have done something to impress the Council. Besides coming back from the dead." His eyes turned back to the two of her crewmembers, "If you're looking for her chances are you might still catch her up there."

Garrus nodded, thanked him and left. With matter settled, Thane had his own way to go.

*/*/*/*/*

Chance or not, but by the time Garrus reached the Citadel Tower the meeting with the Council was already over. Their commander, however, was still in hot debate with the human council representative; and despite facing someone temperamental enough to chase Saren relentlessly across galaxy with promise of biotic dismemberment, Anderson looked as if nothing but a harmless malfunctioning VI stood before him. And if it was possible to judge correctly from her ruthless expression the conversation seemed to have departed from topic of safety of the galaxy into waters she didn't approve off.

"I don't care if he pulled the kicked puppy routine on you; you shouldn't have given it to him!" Shepard's hand cut through the air sharply.

"He said he only wanted to apologize. It was a reasonable request."

She grunted, "Right. You inform him then, that if he wants to tell me anything, he should get more confidence in his manhood, grow a backbone and face me directly. Not use an intermediary. And you can quote me on that."

"Sophie, a man prone to suicide would be reluctant to face you once he's earned your ire," the man replied and with an air of poorly concealed glee around him.

The woman snorted, sound of disbelief and dismissal, her eyes turning to her crewmember at the bottom if the room. Yes, she had turned off her comm, quite likely why he was up here. Anderson noticed him too and recognized Garrus.

"I see your old teammates are flocking around you."

"Some of them," she noted with a frown and a dark expression. Resent banter had left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

The councilor turned to look at her, squeezed her shoulder, "I'll do what I can from here. I'm not sure how yet, but I'll manage something. In the meantime, you do what you do best."

"As always, sir."

"Take care of yourself. And you don't need me to tell you not to trust Cerberus," he nodded and replied worry and trust were equally etched in his face. She responded honestly to that. Nodding and saying her goodbyes she walked down to short flight of stairs, her expression a picture on nonchalance.

With a brief nod to the councilor Garrus followed her out. Peculiarly, she forwent the shuttle in favor of taking a stroll down the busy streets. He was eager to speak with her and share information he had recovered, to set matters in motion. Unfortunately for him and his characteristically unchecked curiosity, the first word that left his mouth was a wrong one.

"Sophie?"

Shepard stopped, paused, turned around and approached him with a calm, somber expression, one very un-Shepard like.

"Garrus," she started laying her hands on his armored chest, "I consider you to be my best friend, buddy, most trusted partner to watch my back and a member of a family I never had. My right hand man. Alien. Mailen, if you really want to butcher the words. Someone I'd walk for into fire itself. Share a creamy cappuccino even if your stomach were a little less sensitive."

It might have been the room temperature or it could have been turian metabolism, or just maybe it had something to do with things she said but the shade under his paint grew a tinge darker.

"I- well… thanks," he tried, making his tongue unstuck from the inside of his mouth. It was an adorably awkward moment. One promptly shattered when she used the wide chard brim of his armor bowl to yank him roughly down to her eyelevel.

"But if you call me that cutesy name again I will use tweezers to rip your metallic scales off one by one; watch you bleed and twist and curl and color the floors in many hues of metallic blue as I skin you alive centimeter of your hide at the time." She paused, letting the words sink in through his translator so he could absorb their full meaning along with the tone of her voice.

"Savvy?" She breathed out.

The turian nodded quickly, mandibles pressing tightly against side of his face, "Giving Shepard pet names brings pain, agony and certain death. Got it."

Clear unblinking eyes grounded him firmly but for but a second more before she pulled back, ruffled expression almost immediately returning to previous smoothness and maddening smile.

"Good. Now, seeing how you have wasted gratuitous time in coming up to this hellhole – also known as the Presidium – something must have happened, and I do hope it has Collectors involved because it would make my life with the Council a matter much simpler to deal with."

"Nothing that dramatic commander. It's just-" he paused before tone of his voice, along with his eyes, turned serious. "I've located Fade."

Shepard pulled back, her expression shifting to calculation, "What scale of murderous intent are we talking about here?"

"Blue Sun mercs, mechs…" he shrugged, "It's an industrial complex. Your guess is as good as mine."

Her eyes roamed over the landscape, curled fingers of her hand drumming against her lips in thought, "Then an extra hand with an extra weapon of destruction would be welcome, yes?"

*/*/*/*/*

Stepping out of the more prominent glass covered buildings Thane briefly touched his forehead before stepping into the flow of the Citadel, blending in among many creatures so well despite drell being a rare sight. Even with the meandering of the crowd his was by no means directionless. His mind at least, was working with cold fury rare to his character.

It was unfathomable how the bankers could have made such a mistake. The news they've received of his death was as of yet premature and must have been fabricated. For it had to be either that or his only child had finally started to dig through his father's past, and while the later option was more likely it also filled him with a sense of dread. Still, that alone would not explain how he managed to acquire the package so soon – or even learn of its existence.

This will require investigation, but not now. Now he needed to check on his son.

He would have to send the message though EDI – it would not be his first choice to use Cerberus AI's secure channels, and he certainly had ample informants he'd worked with during his career, but he had little knowledge of how long the Normandy would be docked on Citadel or if the AI played friendly with informal mail – and wait.

But even with worry and tension building at slow pace within him he was always vigilant, so it baffled him then as he made his way back to the ship, surprising even for he had not expected it, when the commander appeared on his path, crowd splitting around her like a curtain on a stage with helmet under her arm and a barest hint of a grin on her lips.

"Mr. Krios," pads of her fingers came together as her smile widened under her very much amused eyes, "You wouldn't happen to have something planned for the afternoon, would you?"

How did Captain Bailey describe it? Cheshire cat on steroids – yes, that was the one. A most accurate description if he ever heard one.

"Not anymore," was his simple, if coerced, answer.

*/*/*/*/*


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note: **A mission most written about and really done till death, seeing how many writers use it; and there's some dialogue from the game, again.

**Note#2:** English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

*ch4.

"It shall forever be a question in my mind how they manage to know it is I even under all this armor," the commander tsked, red light flashing on her helmet before turning lightly towards one of her teammates. "Are you quite sure you wish to be here? There's no telling when the next time we'll stop in – for sake of argument let's call it 'civilized' space," Shepard asked artlessly discarding the heat sink from her guns.

Blue Suns mercenaries and combat drones littered the floor, walls and an occasional crate, trashed or otherwise. Considering the number of bodies surrounding them by this time it was a bit too late to ask him that question, and she likely knew it. Reading her otherwise impeccable stance he knew he was correct. There were names for people like Shepard – none which should be spoken in polite company and none which would pass his lips. This matter on its own, it bothered him very little. He had dealt with his own share of manipulative employers.

"I am certain Shepard."

"You know best, I am sure," she tilted her head and easily spun around, her attention now fully focused on more than one safe in the area. She even rubbed her hands before engaging the decrypting of codes which acted as a wall between her and something potentially useful.

"Plundering, commander?"

"All for a good cause, officer. Should you feel the law is served best thus, you can take me into custody later," Shepard chuckled gesturing with the hand holding a gun while the other she used to hack the terminals. This old prefab factory had more goodies packed between one crate and another than one was to imagine. "All in all, it is not all that hard imagining Harkin as an underground mockery of missing persons' center."

"I didn't think you've met him, commander?" Garrus turned his head slightly, reloading and switching between his weapons. Long-range rifle for a gun.

"Briefly, and it was a tale to involve a cesspool of life, words spoken in shadows, greedy, wandering fingers and blood curdled on sharp, cracked edges. Not worth mentioning really," but as she said it she grinned under her helmet. For all the slyness he thought he possessed, Harkin was unimaginably easy to deal with. At least Garrus will have little trouble extracting information from him.

Turning his head to the other companion who still had some issues understanding Shepard-speech Garrus helpfully translated, "In plane words, she went to speak with him in **Chora's Den**. He got too familiar. She broke his face against the table." Face immovable as always, Thane still allowed himself a slight questioning lift of his eyeridge. "Don't worry. If you stay on the ship long enough, you'll learn to sort out the bullshit from the point eventually."

"Is that even possible?" The drell rasped in question. Even if Shepard did make sense, more or less, most of the time, there were situations, word composition – like now – where he suspected his translator had short-circuited. In fact, he was nearly led to believe that a good number of words she used didn't even exist in his own native language. It was only as of late that he came to conclusion that there wasn't so much a compatibility problem between their languages but the way she would flip and play with hers. Butcher it almost, some would say.

"Some have managed. All I know is, I'm still learning," Garrus said, images of her remarkably simple conversation with Anderson flashing in his mind for a moment before focus on Harkin, and through him, Sidonis took over.

Credits safely stored Shepard gestured at the two to follow her further in the office. Garrus didn't need much inclination to continue with search.

"What the hell is Harkin up to?" He asked, himself mostly, head going left and right around the small space.

Shepard pushed the switch and a thick metallic shield rolled down to reveal another crate filled warehouse. "Ah, heavy machinery," she exclaimed as Garrus leaned over to peer further in the complex. "That should narrow down the choice of any potential opponents." In turn she looked at silently snarling turian, critical eyes hidden behind the helmet and measuring turian's stance. "You are like a loaded, malfunctioning gun, Garrus. Am I to expect you to blow up as well?"

"Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear. If so, he knows why we're here and I don't want him tipping Sidonis off," he responded tightly. She nodded at his reasoning, his posture emanating traces of coiled anger. Eyes once more focused on the crates littering the complex beyond the glass, at least there'll be cover to be had. Then, there, in the background something moved and all three through reflex alone took cover where they could. "Did you see that?"

Shepard cocked her head, "LOKIs."

"He's getting ready for us," he murmured.

"Of course he is," Shepard quipped and leaned against the metal wall. Red light of her helmet focused on turian kneeling behind the console. "But before we go in I would like to know if by the end of the day I'll have to clean the spongy grey mass off my armor should Harkin prove too tightlipped."

"He's a real criminal now," he rolled his right shoulder, singed and decrepit side of his armor looked like a macabre tattoo in the mix of red and white lights of the small office. "Working for the Blue Suns. I should just shoot him on sight. But I need him alive, so I won't do nay permanent damage. Just enough to loosen his tongue." There was something in his tone, something to complete his raptor-like appearance, which made her doubt his words.

Her eyes wandered off to drell, still in shadows on the opposite side of her. He returned her look motionless, perfectly poised to strike should situation call for it. Even if he were to have an opinion on the ongoing matter he would keep it to himself. He was naught but onlooker now, and a second gun to help. Jack or Grunt for instance, would certainly let their tongues wag. For a moment she contemplated the little things which made the contrast between two alien men, though both had all credentials necessary to perform a kill. She made it to the half of her list before her mind revolved back to the matter at hand. She could fool around later.

There was temptation to ask about his intentions regarding Sidonis' planned execution but the question would be redundant as Shepard was well aware. Instead, she held up both of her pistols. "Well then," she eagerly declared pressing another switch to open the door leading out, "let us be off. It is impolite to let the master of the house wait."

Sounds of working machinery filled the air, easily covering the footsteps and other movement from their opponents – mechanic or otherwise.

"Shepard," close to her ear EDI's methodical voice easily cut through, "I patched into warehouse scanners. The crates in the transport carriers overhead are rigged to explode when dropped."

She cast a glance above and then at her team, "I have a few ideas which benefit from incorporating that," she grinned. Barely in they were and immediately so hard pressed by the fire, a quick roll to cover and a count of targets was all they could do. Through her helmet's sensors she counted the number of people shooting at them. Predominantly drones, but there were more than a few Blue Suns as well. Harkin must either be sitting on a gold mine to pay them, or at least offers them his special service of disappearing with discount.

"On either side, keep them penned," she ordered calmly gesturing at the groups of mechs and mercenaries firing at them. Following orders, and having an idea what the commander was going on about, the two men immediately set about sniping out those who would peer over and expose themselves too much. The key was to press them back, or at least not let them scatter. Garrus, with his precise yet aggressive shots – most meant to disable and wound before aiming for the head; and Thane, who was snipping anything down with an efficiency of a mass effect powered lawnmower – a poor yet disturbingly accurate comparison.

With experience Shepard danced between enemy fire until she reached the cover between a set of crates with, to her mind, the best view. Peering over to see if her crew had accomplished the task, she counted some and guessed the position of others. Flipping back and ducking low, bracing her armored feet on the opposite crate behind which just a moment ago she was taking cover, the aim of her shotgun was now focused on the crates sliding above their heads.

"Do keep your heads low, gents," she ordered through the comm firing first three shots, with many more to follow. Her alien companions had but a fraction of a second of time before crates started falling down about them in loud explosion and with debris flying about like bullets, not picking and choosing between wounding and killing friend or foe.

Only the sturdiest of crates survived and but a few LOKI mechs were still moving, not to speak of their organic opponents. These were easily dealt with as the three walked out of their cover; Shepard most casual of them dusting debris of her shiny armor.

"Nice handiwork," Garrus praised deadpan eyeing the destruction left in her wake. It almost looked like something a raging krogan would leave behind.

"Flatterer," she crooned, lightly tapping his armor.

Pause and easy post-battle atmosphere cut rudely when Harkin's voice sounded through the PA system with all too recognizable, _'You're never getting in here Garrus!'_ It was followed with shockingly honest, "Oh, do shut up," aggravation coming form Shepard herself. Almost as a response, ahead of them platforms started rising, three or four, obscuring their way forward and halting their progress.

Between them Garrus sneered, revealing needle-like teeth, "Harkin's going to regret this. We'll have to go around."

Yes. Yes, they would.

But not Shepard.

Not taking into account his words she moved, blue light sparking in her eyes and around her limbs, as she propelled herself upwards towards the highest rising platform, racing easily as if she were jousting down the main lane. Above, her hands gripped the edge of a container, momentum propelling her forward and up – she flipped over and took cover behind it, making it seem a maneuver as easy as if she had done it once a day since she joined the Alliance.

"Show off," Garrus grunted lowering his rifle and shaking his head.

"I take it we should to go the long way around," Thane changed the heatsink, evenly observing his commander's escapades. Were this any other time in his life, particular the happier one, he might have been tempted to charge his employer extra just because of the lack of planning and unpredictability of the mission itself. It was not however; and those days were long gone.

"She didn't offer us a ride." Garrus gestured to a meandering path between crates, "This way."

And with that, both of them started their climb around.

Above, Shepard was having far too much fun for someone in her position to have. Quick glance and four shots later a couple of surrounding Blue Suns dropped in sizzles, sparks and blood. As the silence settled, even before her colleagues caught up, she stood, eyes and sensors equally scanning surroundings. Suddenly, another set of heavy machinery sounded from above and as her eyes followed the source she realized that her repertoire of enemies had been enlarged by two which could count for six.

One platform below she heard Garrus' _'Oh, crap. Two heavy mechs – incoming!'_ warning spark through the comm. Rapidly she went about switching to a more murderous version ammo, cryo, as her fingers reached for the shotgun and once more she hid herself.

"Gents, should you have some free time at your disposal," – a blast of rapid, drumbeating fire stifled her voice – "a lady requires some assistance regarding a mediocre tight spot up here!" She ducked in further as heavy gunshots ricochet just above her head and her hiding place. Shepard grunted ducking behind another heavy crate as the one behind her exploded. Whatever they were filled with did not make them sturdy, nor safe.

"Let's go!" Two men rushed across and up, between boxes, taking cover from two YMIR mechs. Shepard gave them cover, drawing the attention away and singling one out. Thane moved over to the right, lightly dodging with an occasional biotic blast to make the second follow him, while Garrus set about to weaken its shield.

As shots hummed around her, Shepard went through familiar strategy in her head. Heavy mechs, thick armor, sturdy shields, bucket load of ammo in reserve, twin automatic mass accelerator cannons and a rocket launcher. Slow and can easily be sent onto overload with precise shots to the head.

Tactics: keep them in close vicinity of each other, freezing one, and then overloading it would greatly weaken the other allowing for further dismantlement.

"Keep them closely corralled if you'd kindly," she said leaning over the box, shotgun posed and aiming at the head of one of killing machines. It took a clip but one succumbed. From both sides her companions laid heavy fire – more a distraction considering how armored they were.

"Shepard! The other's still advancing," she heard one of them call.

"Just a little more," she whispered ignoring any stray shots in her direction and maintaining a steady fire at the head of white statuesque mech. Sparks started around joints of its neck and head, light on its receptors flashing dangerously and ice melting from it.

"Take cover!" She ordered and a moment later a volatile explosion shattered through the hold. The second mech – kept closely to the first – was severely damaged now, stuttered a bit, targeting systems off as it sought them out. In its rumpled state it became an easy pray.

Shepard wasted no more ammo on it.

Standing up from her cover she looked over her armor with calculation. She had taken some damage, as she knew she would – being correct eighty-five percent of the time was proving to be a burden – and she sighed tiredly. This space station was proving to be more dangerous in regards to her health than a great deal of other places in the galaxy.

*/*/*/*/*

In the control room Harkin had himself efficiently backed into wall, so it was with no small surprise that at the sight of Shepard's red and grey armor he tried to flee. But whilst trying to escape Shepard – a foolish notion on its own – he collided with not so friendly disposed Garrus.

It was lights out for Fade that afternoon.

*/*/*/*/*

Orbital Lounge was not too far away, as nothing was on the space station, and most of the journey – Garrus' and not all too safe – was spent in silence. He somewhat sharply navigated them through the crowds and brought them to a parking overseeing a walkway below. Looking where they've landed Shepard distastefully and mournfully put two and two together and didn't like the four that game out at the end.

"Harkin's a bloody menace. You shouldn't have just let him go. He deserved to be punished," barely parking the vehicle he wasted little time to point out. He also refused to look at her and the faint blue of his scope reflected in the glass of door next to him.

In darkness of the shuttle Shepard tsked disapprovingly, "Such a selfish spoilsport you are Garrus. Good Captain Bailey will do a happy dance once he has him in the cell."

"A cell," he grunted glancing at her and she could feel the air vibrate from his voice, "You think that's enough?"

"Hardly matters. However, you shooting a man beaten down is not a characteristic of your personality I wanted to see." Her helmet was resting in her lap, her expression free for others to see range of emotions – and this time there was a hard edge to it. A seriousness which could almost be described as grave.

He looked away, "What do you want for me Shepard? What would you do if someone betrayed you?" He sounded tired and that tiredness angered her. A rare emotion.

"Do not act like a naive chick, Garrus. The list of people I'd delight in hurting is by far longer than the number of creatures you've killed in your life," even if the tone of her voice was light, the words were not and efficiently, it shut him up and made him think. Perhaps precisely because of her personality he might have expected her to be 'trigger-happy' with those she branded as her enemies. "This is not something missing from your life. It's not something you must do," she said quietly, her hand falling from her lap and almost reaching for him.

"Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if I don't? Nobody else knows what he's done. Nobody else cares." He shook his head, "I don't see any other options."

"Options always exist. Talking is an option."

"Talk all you want but it won't change my mind. I don't care what his reasons were. He screwed us. He deserves to die."

"No matter how you feel now or what you do now, this will not be of help to you or to them."

"I appreciate your concern but I'm not you." He ignored her words, pointing it out as if it were an insult. Perhaps it was now. Though Shepard had hard time identifying if he considered comparing himself to her an insult or the other way around.

"Not yet," she leaned back. "And I'd prefer if you didn't start sailing into these waters."

"Really? I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this. Why should he go on living while ten good men lie in unmarked graves?" There was sadness and anger in his voice – more anger than sadness – and speaking to him would not solve anything, she knew. "I'm sorry Shepard, words are not going to solve this problem."

"I need a set up." He looked around eyeing for a good spot. "I can get a clear shot from over there," he gestured at the shadowed spot.

Stubborn, she concluded. More thickheaded than an exuberant youth.

"Speak then," she snapped her fingers.

"Keep him talking and don't get in my way. When he's in my sights I'll let you know. Give me a signal so I know you're ready and I'll take the shot." She didn't respond. Didn't look at him. Shepard disagreed though she did not voice it. "You better go. He'll be here soon."

Doors of the shuttle opened and closed with a small quake and the turian moved away to place nicely concealed from lights and cameras, hurried and rigid steppes but Shepard paid him no heed. Instead her lips were set into a thin, rigid line – a stark contrast to her usually grinning facade. Silence settled for long enough to make the drell, who still sat behind, wonder until a definite sound of electrics flying and plastic and metal breaking cut through the air as easy as her fist did through the console. Unblinking and with a frown settled on her brow she pulled out her fist and switched to the driver's seat starting the shuttle. Her helmet, which gave off a red glow, was left to roll around as she directed it to the lower level.

As Shepard parked the vehicle was covered with blanket of silence. Shutting down the engine she leaned back, her eyes were unfocused as she looked at the people going back and forth across Orbital Lounge.

"I suppose apologies are in order," she said finally tilting her head slightly to the backseat and passenger sitting there. Material of her seat let out a groaning noise as she did so.

"Apologies? For what?" There was an honest questioning titter in his voice.

"Ah, besides being dragged all this way and no more indecent people to shoot at," her hand reached to her belt where her guns were, "ergo wasting your time, I'd have to say, for having to witness this spectacle." Her hand moved over to her back and took off her shotgun, her guns, and placed on them all on the seat next to her.

Thane watched her curiously, and her action of stripping herself of everything, excluding the armor itself, which in the eyes of others would clearly mark her as a dangerous individual. Weapons were usually a mark not only of someone deadly but well protected, as well. Shepard had always been an individual well protected; be it by guns she wore, skill she possessed or people she surrounded herself with. This evening she will be back to her wits alone.

"No apology is necessary, Shepard," she heard him say quietly from behind.

"Truly? That is good then, I suppose."

Finishing with the last piece she stepped out and he made a move to follow suit but she turned around gesturing him to stay behind in the shuttle, "Here your skills won't be necessary, Mr. Krios."

"You are unarmed Shepard," with a frown he noticed even if she was well aware.

"As is Sidonis," she replied waving her hand in dismissal. "This turian will cause me no harm, therefore any reason for your potential anxiety is nonexistent."

His inner eyelids moved over his eyes. If he were to tell it from a professional standpoint gained from many years of experience, it wasn't Sidonis who gave him cause for alarm where his commander's health was concerned. Garrus was teetering very close to the edge and, from what he had observed, Thane firmly believed that only years of respect towards Shepard had stopped him killing Harkin then and there while lying on the floor.

"Once all this is over, Mr. Krios," she started once more her voice professionalism pure, "if you'd please, bring Garrus back aboard the Normandy."

"Of course," he inclined his head slightly, not questioning why it were to be him and not her to do such.

"Also, should Miranda, if by any chance your race posses it, reach for your jugular regarding my whereabouts, do mention to her that the loft still requires extensive decorating."

Not that he had any idea what she was talking about but he nodded once more.

She looked up towards terrace where Garrus was preparing his sniper rifle and sighed. Shaking her head she turned and started down the lounge. He was about to return to that cab when he heard her add, "And please, in the name of all your gods, do not let him steer. There is significantly high chance he'll drive into something just to vent out his rage," before she disappeared into the crowd, direction where Sidonis – easy to spot being one of very few turians in the area – was sitting.

"Shepard, do you hear me?" Garrus' voice cracked in her ear making her grimace. With her back to him he could scarcely see it, though.

"Loud and clear." She took her hand off the radio and then added gruffly to her own piece of mind, "And regretting every minute of it."

*/*/*/*/*


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note: **Among others, I've used Earth based fish for this.

**Note#2:** English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

*ch5.

_Ocellaris Clownfish, __Stegastes Variabilis, __Illium Skaid,__Holacanthus Ciliaris,__ Thessian Sunfish,__ Chaetodon Capistratus._

"Miss? Have you decided?" The voice of the shopkeeper, a predictably young asari, asked and she straightened. Eyes still roaming over the colorful swimming palate on blue background Shepard tilted her head.

"Do they play well together?"

"Well enough. You won't have to worry about seeing them half-eaten one morning."

"Ah, at least one good news today. A pair of each, please," she said and then typed on her omni-tool, both paying – five hundred each species, a robbery as far as she was concerned – sending dock number and ship's name data to store's computer. "Have them delivered here. Someone will be waiting to pick up."

Hopefully, t'would not be Garrus to enforce himself as the one-man welcoming committee, subsequently ending their existence by tossing them down the drain. Or he might hand them over to Sergeant Gardener as a new and special gift for crew's banquet.

The turian. She paused, rubbing her chin. For the moment she didn't think. There was no need now, and she had already plotted two or three potential disastrous courses, and five to six somewhat beneficial endings to their friendship. Anything else could be calculated later, or in the back of her mind where the rest of her thoughts would not be intruded.

Paying she stepped out of the pet shop, taking a deep breath of Citadels' filtered atmosphere.

Truly, the Citadel was her least favorite place in the Galaxy. And it had very little to do with politicians inhabiting the upper layers like parasites or aspirant mafia bosses gracing the gutter below. In fact, it had much to with ogling. Blatant ogling.

It might have been on the flattering side if indeed the appreciation of her figure had been calculated in. It wasn't. Not with the way she felt gunpoint-like pinpricks rest on her hips where her guns should be and not on her well rounded behind. They bore into the shotgun that was not there and the team that did not walk by her side.

Long time ago, during one of her first missions when she wasn't as of yet used to wearing armor like second skin, she used to slouch a lot leaving lot of her back exposed, vulnerable to attack. The habit has been rid off since that time but, curiously enough, it was there where those rude stares converged most.

Should she thank the Illusive Man for the generous spread of rumor of her return to the glorified lands of the living? Rumor mill would work its way through the crowd with or without his help. And possibly with even more ludicrous tales and severe consequences.

Exhibiting some admittance of her lack of orientation – only the Keepers knew every inch and store on this station – she prodded her omni-tool for directions. Following instructions she rounded a corner, went down a level, and meandered among streets some wide lanes and others narrow – until she found herself what she had been looking for.

Her grumbling stomach approved of the sent and sight.

Today, it seemed was a day to buy fish – dead or alive.

Steamed and roasted catfish fillet, soaked with olive oil, lemon juice and chopped scallion. A royal treat for those who appreciate a good taste and simple food directly from Earth. Not that she hadn't tried some of more exotic and alien dishes, but in the end, that's what they would remain – exotic, extravagant and very much not nutritious.

Shepard hitched her gloves and gauntlets against her belt, leaving her fingers exposed and free to deal with the meal. She wandered some more, eyes fixed with nonchalance to people, aliens going about their business fully ignoring her presence as they did with many others. Of course, without an armored escort and with no weapons of her own her armor would pose more of a curiosity than a threat. And the fish helped. Common folks rarely expect professional soldiers to display something of an ordinary behavior – like eating.

The catfish was delicious, by the way.

Reaching one of the many surrounding balconies she leaned on her forearms, crossing her ankles. Absentmindedly she counted the towering buildings in the distance. Last time she had taken her time to look at sight such as this involved Kaidan and Ashley by her side. Things have changed very little since then. People surrounding her might be different but dangers equating destruction of galaxy nipped at her heels.

Taking a small, last bite of her snack she leaned over to look at the sight directly below her, she let out a snort. Despite its forty-four point seven kilometers of length, the Citadel was a small. It had to be. It was a space station, not a planet. And watching Grunt pass one level below her proved her point. Whether he noticed her or not was not the issue here.

As she cleaned her fingers and lips she didn't look back though her ears picked up an odd sound of footsteps – one coming closer as opposed to many circling her position. Throwing the napkin in nearby trash disposal she pulled on her gauntlets, methodically patching them together.

"If you wish to speak with me, do so. If you wish to kill me," she turned around, resting her forearm on the short balcony wall, eyes and smile tinted with knowledge and dull resignation, "well, something can be arranged I suppose."

*/*/*/*/*

Approximately nine hours and forty-three minutes since Normandy docked, Sofia had barely stepped on board of her ship when Kelly caught up with her. In fact, it would be better to say that Kelly suddenly appeared, out of nowhere, like a genie. The one that did not grant wishes. Shepard was beginning to consider the possibility that all secretaries were supernaturally gifted so they could track and cruelly abuse their bosses while at the same time successfully multitasking all the assignments which were required of them.

"Commander, you're back! Do you realize you've been impossible to reach for hours!" There was a reprimand in her voice making Sofia wonder who was beholden to whom exactly on this ship.

"Which is precisely the point of me switching off my radio, Miss Chambers. Otherwise 'time alone' would hardly be time alone, no?" Shepard let out an absolutely exasperated sigh brushing her of her face in a dramatic manner. Kelly pressed her lips in a tight line, without a hint of usual good humor. Did something happen on the ship in the meantime? Nothing seemed to be in shambles so Shepard assumed no body parts were hidden in inconspicuous locations.

Kelly looked over her datapad as if jotting something down in a typical secretarial manner, "Your fish have been delivered. Quite the colorful choice you have made."

Shepard blinked, amused at Kelly's vindictive irritation.

"Why thank you Miss Chambers. When I am in position to face death, destruction and surly crewmembers every time I step out of my rooms I thought I might as well keep them lively," she replied noticing Kelly's gaze now dropping to cage in her hands. A novelty she didn't plan on spending credits on.

"Your quarters are lively commander. And that is…" she asked to lean over to get a closer look. When a small furry snout peeked out from the box Kelly quite literally threw herself back on the other side of the wall, datapad clattering on the floor loudly. Shepard, for the first time since she had been introduced to her yeoman, gave the woman a curious look.

"That's… a rat!" Kelly screeched pointing accusatory at her commander as if she had brought plague on board. Maybe it would be true at one point in history.

"No, this is a miniature giant space hamster, and her name is Ammut. And here I thought your entire family was a lover of animal world."

"Amu-what?!" Breath hitched in Kelly's voice as she completely ignored every other word the Commander had said.

"Ammut. Honestly, young people these days don't read even the basic history of our planet," Shepard sighed bringing the cage up to her face. "And with your endearing appearance you will do some great deal of heart devouring, won't you?" The hamster sniffed the air and rapidly scurried to hide in her miniature cave with a squeak.

Something akin to whimper left yeoman's lips and Shepard rolled her eyes. Well, there was one person who will not be offering herself willingly to feed the hamster or clean the cage while she was away on missions. Unless Shepard was feeling particularly sadistic. Shepard grinned. Why yes, she was in fact feeling very sadistic.

"Well then," she threw a derisive glance at her secretary. Call her pet hamster a rat, will she? "Is there anything that requires my immediate attention?"

"It… it can wait, Commander," Kelly swallowed gathering her ungracefully discarded datapad.

"Good. Should anyone have a need for their illustrious captain, namely me, I can be found at the armory. After I help settle Ammut in her new quarters, that is," she patted the top of the cage.

"Of course, Commander," there was nothing in Kelly's barely composed voice to say she was happy about the idea. Quite the opposite in fact. It made Shepard grin all the wider.

*/*/*/*/*

Miss Chambers, who had appeared very cross with the Commander at the time, had pointed him in her direction. Armory had become a place she frequented more often than others on the ship. Door hissed open and his ears were assaulted by a loud music with an upbeat rhythm. Even stoic Jacob, who was present, had his head moving lightly with the beat.

"You don't approve of choice? Or do you simply disapprove of my tastes?" Shepard chuckled, taking a tool from his hand.

"Not my first choice commander but it can get under your skin," he offered with barely a hint of a ruffle smile. The scene he stumbled upon was not unlike the one he had shared with her a few days back. Except for the noise which could pass as music.

Shepard was the first one to look up and spot him standing there, hands clasped behind his back. She tended to do that; notice things, people, changes in her vicinity. Noticing change in her, Jacob's eyes followed suit to see the drell standing there.

"Mr. Krios," Sofia said and took a moment to silence the surrounding sound. "James Brown. Second half of twentieth century. Exceptionally good song," she explained briefly taking into account that being familiar with Earth philosophers didn't necessarily mean knowledge of musicians was included as well. "At a later date then?" She said turning her head back to Jacob.

"Commander." With a salute and a distrusting and not at all concealed glance at the drell, Jacob left. Though his attention never wavered form the Commander, Thane turned his eyes back to her.

She was sitting at the far side of the table, peaces of her 'dragon' suit lay scattered about and across as she concerned herself with repairs. It was her favorite armor and she almost refused to leave the ship without it in pristine condition – never mind that she had at least four different sets of equal quality. No, for Sofia Shepard it was either her prized possession or mission would not happen, disturbing as it was.

Not looking up she gestured him with the wave of her hand to approach, come closer. Her face was frowned in deep honest concentration as she worked delicate tools over the singed and damaged areas, removing microscopic cracks which could spell disaster when one least expects it.

"This is most excellent, I see you have arrived in one piece. I take it you didn't let Garrus steer?" There was a strange absence of usual jovial tone which accompanied her speech. Had the actions on Citadel have any personal effect on her he could only guess. By all accounts the friendship between the commander and turian had been forged in trial and fire. His own opinion of the matter he kept closely guarded. There would be other times, between many a mission, for him to deliberate on the matter. Time which he had precious short and had to be put to good use now.

"He was in no mood to argue the matter," Thane replied taking a stance at the side of the table – one previously occupied by Cerberus operative. "But he was visibly distraught when he saw you have left your weapons behind."

Shepard frowned, thinking.

"My- Oh, dear me," she snapped her fingers, an explosive sound amidst the hum of Life Support, "On the co-driver's seat. I knew there was something that slipped from my mind."

The day something truly 'slips' from her mind would be the day Kepral syndrome grounds to a halt in his body and makes a hasty retreat leaving no traces to be found, morbid as it sounded.

His expression turned to slight curiosity when he next spoke, "You seem very fond of manipulating those around you."

Her eyes twinkled and a small smile nestled in the corner of her lips, "That is a poor set of words to choose, Mr. Krios. Have another go."

Another go? The words did not fit, but the meaning was close? Following her advice he tried again this time taking something different into account, "You are good at manipulation."

Sofia nodded, openly, "As any commander worth of their salt is. As any self-respecting commander would fail to admit when asked. But you are not here today because of me, for me or in any other way, shape or form related to my shenanigans involving Garrus." She leaned back and brushed her hand gently over the surface of her newly repaired segment of her armor. "Have you managed to complete your business I've so rudely interrupted?" She raised her head to look at him and spotted a slightly widening of his dark eyes. "I saw you come out of the bank," she explained further.

"I did. And in a way, yes, it has something to do with my being there." He looked near reluctant to speak as she had ever seen him. It was not something distinct, or anything that would shatter his iron composure. If anything, it added to the fact that he was flesh and blood. She was curious now.

"Should you wish my assistance, Mr. Krios, I might need a bit more information than that."

"It is not an easy subject to talk about, Shepard."

"If it is personal, then it wouldn't be. If it is anything else then-"

/"Commander. Normandy will be ready to leave the dock in fifteen minutes."/ As per its impeccable timing, Joker's voice cut in through the conversation. A slight, barely traceable tension sprang through drell's body. Shepard made a mental note and filed it away for future reference regarding the only assassin on the ship.

"How very kind of you to notify me Joker."

/"Commander?"/

Someone was persistent today. Shepard sighed, "Yes, Joker?"

/"Is it true that you've shot the reporter on the Citadel?"/

As fate's machinations would have it, it was her turn now to feel a bit of tension.

Immediately but also somewhat reluctantly Shepard straightened from where she was bent over her work. Her eyes were downcast and her shoulders unusually stiff. She cleared her throat before speaking, "Such a ridiculous notion! Of course I did not shoot a reporter Joker," she said in snappish tone as if it were so obvious to the world. "I have obliterated her camera," she amended.

She heard Joker's laugh before communication was cut. She paused glancing at Thane before haltingly looking away, all the part a guilty child in appearance.

"I am liable to get bad press wherever I step, I'm afraid. Apparently I do not know how to communicate with people properly," she shook her head.

He considered that, yes, shooting or hitting reporters, or their cameras, might do that to one's reputation.

"Now, as to your question?" She gestured at him with welcoming sign of open palms. "Would this, let's call it a 'favor', require the ship to stay in port when we should be off?"

Tension and acceptance in equal parts.

"It would, Shepard."

She leaned over and closed her eyes, resting her chin upon her intertwined fingers, "Before this conversation proceeds to point of no return, allow me to think."

*/*/*/*/*

He let out a small barely audible sigh. He was already debating with himself of how very bad of a decision this was. "Do you still find it all that hard to believe?" The seat next to his shifted sharply.

But the decision has been made.

"Pardon?" She quipped, a confused expression briefly crossing over her face. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no. No. Yes."

He gave her a curious, even slightly amused glance at her quick jabber. In the half-darkness of the cab her violet eyes had an imposing red glow to them. Implants showing when the light was just right, he knew.

"I suppose grasping the idea that an assassin can have a family is difficult to some."

"Quite the opposite in fact," she intoned shaking her finger. "You seem like nothing else but a family man. Why, had I not witnessed it myself, imagining you on a field as an assassin would, well let's say, require a concoction made combined of stretch of imagination and a leap of faith." She met his questioning gaze before giving him a sidelong glance and looking away to the lit streets of the Citadel, "I hope that did not come across as an insult."

"It did not," was his quiet reply. Assassins were meant to be inconspicuous after all. "But you are far too used on thugs with custom-painted armor, Shepard."

"Well now, I'll let you know that I have dealt with professionals before Mr. Krios. The only difference is that they've got caught in the attitude." And before he could answer, and his lips have already parted with a ready retort, she spun around exclaiming an excited 'Ah, there he is,' and rushed off in long sinew stride.

"Captain Bailey!"

Captain of C-Sec of Zakara Ward looked like running away was not only preferable but a single sane option. Thane couldn't fault the man. During moments when his own imagination wasn't stretched too thinly by Shepard's exploits into the wonderland of deliberate misunderstandings, his own thoughts run along much the same course.

*/*/*/*/*


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note:** English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

*ch6.

As they waited for certain Elias Kelham to be dispatched their way, Shepard busied herself playing with the VI of herself on her omni-tool, occasionally letting out a snort to cover laugh. This was particularly true each time 'I delete data like you on the way to real errors,' came up. It was a bizarre moment, to sit in a busy precinct with a Spectre and wait as one would a misguided family member. In a roundabout way he supposed he was doing much the same thing.

"Mouse is good," she said suddenly and quite unexpectedly making a comment about a former duct-rat. "He's still in the sea but at least he's holding onto the shore. Here's to hoping the waves don't pull him under."

A strange metaphor but he understood what she meant. He nodded, "He had managed to survive where many have not." It was not said out loud but between them, they both knew there was still time for Mouse to get himself killed. As effortlessly as it was for smalltime criminals to fly beneath the scope of their respective bigger breed, they could also be targeted all too easily.

She glanced at him, contemplative, before looking back though the glass wall where officers mingled. "You appear less than calm. This wouldn't happen to be your first time in precinct's waiting room?"

"I cannot say that there ever was a need for me to. You, however, seem at ease here."

"Ah," she waved her hand and switched off her omni-tool. Armor clicked as she stretched arms over her head and then brought down to fold them behind. "A second home to me."

Not the most reassuring comment he had ever heard from her. And also one to raise more questions. Still, he was not one to pry, and he would not do so now.

"Take a look," she said pointing at the door, "our guest has arrived." He turned to see a human, Kelham, being dragged in, hanging between two officers. Sheaprd rose to her feet and stood next to him, "And it appears he had offered some resistance on the way here. If regular C-Sec officers were enough to agitate him so, getting the name out of him will not be so hard." Sofia turned to C-Sec officer waiting before the door, "Kelham is here. Do inform Bailey that we shall commence shortly." With a salute the man was off and shortly in his place his commanding officer came. Thane inclined his head, spotting as once more there was a playful smile spread across her lips, one he had quickly come to associate with the wheels of her mind turning – which was near constant.

"He'll expect me to get him out of this," the Captain of the Ward gestured at the interrogation room with his head.

"Not today, I think." Thane's voice rasped with certainty. Shepard grinned.

Bailey tilted his head, pressing the comm. link in his ear. After a moment he nodded and looked at the Spectre and assassin, "I'll stall him. Get in there and work fast."

Thane stepped in front of her, "We should question him together. Keep the pressure on."

"We should?" Shepard quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Thoughts on how we approach it?" Sofia looked at him, smiled and shrugged. This surprised him a little. He would have guessed that she had done this before. "You don't have much experience with heading an interrogation, do you?"

"People lay their soul bare at my feet every day. How hard can it be to have a criminal do the same?" Shepard offered to perplexed drell unlocking the entry.

Shaking his head Bailey watched the two disappear into the interrogation room. In the meantime, he had a lawyer to stall. He disliked dealing with them, especially those of self-appointed mob bosses but to give them time he'll have to curb his aversion to buy the Spectre some time. Possibly due to some intergalactic alignment of stars, barely as he approached the front door, the one behind him hissed open and Shepard stepped out, casually dispatching nonexistent dirt from her shoulder, followed by the drell.

Thane looked over at her, half amazement and more than half amusement, "That may go down in history as the shortest interrogation ever."

Shepard cocked her head in his direction, "It would not kill you to trust me, Mr. Krios. I can guarantee that, in fact, it will prolong your life." Her voice was part cackle part serious business, in a complicated composition only Shepard could produce.

"What's the story? Why did Khelum hire the boy?" Crossing his arms Bailey asked as they approached him.

"The presence of one Joram Talid bothers him a lot apparently," she explained their finding. "I am afraid I have been perusing the other side for a while too long to recognize the name."

"Joram? Yeah. You might have seen his posters around. He's promising to end organized crime on the Ward. The thing is, his message is all mixed up in race politics. He's anti-human."

Sofia sighed, "One should think that after all we have done for the Council – die, namely – they'd have a bit more appreciation."

"Even with that many still think that our climb to council seat was too quick. And now C-Sec is filled with humans; our fleet guards the station. Anderson is not Udina but he won't let them just forget who it was exactly to take down Sovereign."

Politics. Shepard shrugged, "A ride to 800 Blocks would be much appreciated."

Bailey nodded and turned to one of junior officers, "Sergeant! Get a patrol car. These two need to get to 800 Blocks."

"Yes sir!" The girl saluted eagerly and quickly moved to bring the shuttle around. The enthusiasm of youth, Shepard thought. Before leaving Sofia cast a thoughtful glance at Kelham and his attorney step out of the previously occupied interrogation room. There was something there, something fairly familiar to her way of thinking.

"Shepard?" She heard being called and spotted the young officer and Thane waiting for her near the exit, patrol car already parked and waiting for them.

"Oh, dear me. Can I drive?!" She asked hopping over to them. "I always did wonder how a police car felt from the front seat."

*/*/*/*/*

Sofia remembered clearly hearing him utter a prayer only to turn and see him simply not being there. Lost in the crowd he was. How utterly rude to just pop out and vanish. Especially incredible too. And pleasantly unexpected. It was so brilliantly over the top, she couldn't help but love it. She might even force herself to ask him to teach her the trick even. But he would refuse she knew.

"_This doesn't stop here! I won't rest until humans are removed from power."_

She leaned over the rail of maintenance catwalk and sighed reaching for the comm. "He is preaching to the masses," she said over the link. Truthfully, she wasn't listening to what the turian had been saying. Something about humans being the lowlife of universe – but her humble experiences taught her that every other race in the galaxy was as well.

From time to time her eyes would wander the crowd, and dark corners, for any sight of her associate. A practice of her own detection skills, one could say. She knew she had caught the sight of him once; three or four times could have been the work of her overactive imagination and for the rest, there was no sign to be spotted except for the voice over the comm. Sofia frowned. Each individual had a pattern they worked with best, assassins were no exception, but she had not been working with this one to detect it yet. It would take a great deal more joint missions before she will be able to read him as well as she could, say, Garrus or Tali, or Joker even.

"_It's been wonderful talking to you all. I hope you'll come out on Election Day."_

She continued following Talid, strutting as a peacock on a fashion scene eve. As Thane had mentioned earlier, the krogan bodyguard had made it significantly easier. She covered a snort when one of his potential voters had praised human cuisine.

"Why did you have a holo of Mouse?" Sofia asked as she moved over the catwalks, her eyes glazing over shops and people to keep a contact with the one she needed to. There was a briefest hint of a pause before she heard him respond.

/"Now would not be the best time to speak of such things, Shepard. Later perhaps."/ Professional detachment laced with undertone of regret, as far as she could tell.

"Too true. But there is a high possibility you'll be too depressed later, and I'd like to know."

A pause, longer one. Was he brining up memories even now, she wondered. Or had she tread on forbidden topic?

/"He wished for someone to remember him. A foolish bit of sentimentality."/

"Would that be yours? Or his? No. I am sorry; there is no need to answer that." And he didn't. The silence stretched between them even as the sounds of the populated area surrounded them. Following the politician went smooth as asari silk – a washed out and ragged asari silk because there are some jobs which should never go so smooth.

/"What's he doing?"/ She heard him ask after a while.

"His bodyguard is talking to a bartender…-" she paused, eyebrow arching.

/"Shepard?"/ The question came at her silence.

"A shakedown," she whispered as she observed the krogan pressure the human directly below her. She even caught a few words of threat. "Well, I now have a definitive proof that there is likeness to all politicians."

/"He would end human crime to replace it with his own."/

"Hmm…"was her quiet response as she watched the situation develop carefully. "A meeting with a group of mercenaries; the same one his bodyguard comes from. Would you stake a bet that they may not be paid for a bit more than simple nursing?"

/"I'd loose. He looks nervous. Could be he's noticed you?"/

"Him spotting Kolyat would be a safer guess."

/"Also a possibility. There are obstructions ahead. I'll try to go around. _Don't_ loose him."/ Shepard took her hand off the comm wondering why he felt the need to treat her as if she were an amateur. This was hardly her first mission involving shadowing. Except there was a steady need to remind herself that there was something more important at stake here than safety of the galaxy – for Thane at least.

"_I've got that weird feeling. Like someone's watching me,"_ turian below her fidgeted in place, head turning left and right despite being surrounded by sturdy, if incapable guards.

She proceeded with following him, her mind now more focused on the matter at hand. Her eyes roamed the scarce crowd until she let out a subtle whistle, "Well, I never…"

"What do you see?" Came the immediate question.

She tapped her cheek, "I can tell he's your boy. Your fashion sense is largely the same. Or it might be that he is trying to emulate you very hard." There was a poignant pause on the other side of comm, possibly influenced by guilt. "Ah, and he is off."

/"Don't loose sight of him."/

There was a room ahead of her so not loosing sight of them was not optional. Picking up speed she slid through the storage, pausing long enough to frighten the life out of kid when she pointed gun in his face and gestured to keep silent. On the other side she skated down and saw the younger drell peel himself away from the wall and start to follow Talid through the crowd, gun in hand. Just the way he carried himself reeked of inexperience.

"Kolyat!" She called out. The sound of his name startled him, and it also startled the turian who immediately rushed into the building. His bodyguard turned to do job he was paid for but a first time lucky shot from Kolyat knocked him down. He followed the turian inside.

"Thane!" Shepard called jumping down.

"I saw." In a flash of speed he was by her side as they raced towards the apartments. Inside the elevator was already moving up, numerals flashing to show its quick climb. He turned to her, "He'll try to corner him in Talid's apartment."

"A politician's home?" She asked. She'd hazard to guess but that would mean they'd be heading for the top, and she dreaded the prospect of climbing the stairs in one of Citadel's skyscrapers. Fortunately another elevator was there for them to use – she was very grateful for small favors life offered to her. "There is time. You know he will not kill him now. Not when he needs a hostage to be able to leave alive." She said as they climbed up. And the closer they came the heavier the air appeared to them – to each for a reason of their own.

"I know."

"He will not panic."

"I pray that he does not."

Sofia frowned.

They reached the apartment door and carefully walked in, non-threatening in appearance but ready for trouble. Thane, however, had the appearance of one heading for his own execution. The C-Sec was probably on their way by now, notified of disturbance, but the two have reached Kolyat first. Both had put their weapons away knowing they would only upset the already trigger happy boy. They kept distance from each other, just in case matters at hand turn sour.

This not being her role to play, it was Shepard who kept to the shadows now while Thane stepped forward.

"Kolyat," he addressed him in something Shepard called 'almost-dead' voice.

The blue and red flashing light of C-Sec patrol cars was the only thing to illuminate the dimly lit room. Even under it, Kolyat's skin seemed to have deeper blue like tint to it. "This… this is a joke. Now, now you show up." Disbelief. Pain even. One outcome of situation the boy had perhaps not counted on to happen.

"Help me drell and I'll do whatever you want." On his knees, with hands folded behind his head and with gun pointed straight at it, Talid was the epitome of a man ready to be executed. By an inexperienced gunman no less. At least he still had enough composure to know better than to ask help from a human after all the slander he threw left and right.

"C-Sec. Put the gun down son." The voice of Captain Bailey sounded through the room as he chose this was the moment to appear with one of his officers in tow. It was just the thing to have the already anxious kid even more on the edge.

"Get out of my way." Kolyat waved his head in what should have been assertive manner, "I'm walking out and he's coming with me."

Thane stepped forward, voice calm as he tried to reason with the boy, "They'll have snipers outside."

"I don't need your help."

Feeling something akin to aggravation Sofia pulled out her gun, aimed and fired – all in one fluid motion. The lamp next to the boy toppled over with a ping. Between one 'what the hell,' his attention was drawn away long enough for her approach and knock a fist into side of his face. He lost his balance loosing his weapon, one Shepard casually kicked away from him. Her gun placed back against her hip she helped turian to his feet.

"Come along Talid," she said urging him gently to move away. "Being outside would be the best for you now."

The frightened turian shook a little before wobblingly leaving for the door, not even noticing that it as human guiding him out. "Yeah. Yeah! I will."

"Take the boy into custody," Baeily ordered to one of officers following him.

"You son of a bitch!" Obviously, not directed at her. She threw a glance to the drell from her crew. Her imagination stretched far but she was reluctant to imagine the state of mind he was in now. His dark eyes at least didn't tell her that tale.

"Your father doesn't have much time left, Kolyat. Speak with him. You might be surprised with what you learn," Sofia said and keeping close to Talid walked out of the apartment.

"What? So you've came to get my forgiveness?" Kolyat's eyes, frownd, angry and hurt turned to his father, "So you can die in peace of something?"

"I came to grant you peace." He stopped, choosing his words carefully. "You're angry because I wasn't there when your mother died."

"You weren't there when she was alive. Why should you be there when she died?" The younger drell lashed out.

Thane paused. "Your mother," he knew what he wanted to say, what he had to say but explaining it to an angry child and making him understand, was another matter entirely. "They killed her to get to me. It was my fault."

Kolyat unlaced his arms. "What?"

"After her body was given to the deep, I went to find them. The triggermen, the ring leaders. I hurt them; eventually killed them. When I came back to see you, you were… older." Guilt derived from these events laced his words. "I should have stayed with you."

He pulled back, "I guess it's too bad for me you waited so long, huh?"

Silence stretched until Thane spoke again. "Kolyat, I've taken many bad things out of the world. You are the only good thing I ever added to it."

Outside and gritting her teeth, Shepard didn't think anyone could put that much raw emotion into words.

"This isn't the conversation you should have in front of strangers." Astutely assessing the situation Captain Bailey gestured at his men, "Boys, take Kolyat and his father back to the precinct. Give them a room and as much time as they need."

Leaning against the wall Shepard listened to the conversation, her eyes fixed on the C-Sec Captain as he and two drell walked out. Hearing it all was bad enough; she didn't want to witness it too. She didn't think she could stand looking at them without having her stomach churn and bile rise to sit in her throat. "This is a great favor to do for him Bailey. Thank you," she said quietly. The man shrugged, shook his head. He actually looked a tad bit older.

"Yeah, well, send me a Christmas card or something. Come, I'll give you a ride back."

Shepard shook her head. In turn she looked a tad bit more tired, "I'll walk. If I get paraded around so casually, soon I won't be able to fit in my armor. These are custom made and thus, costly." Bailey snorted but when father and son disappeared into the elevator, she didn't follow and instead directed to where two officers guarded still stressed out Talid. From where she was, she could hear the turian complain spitefully, even using words her translator wasn't equipped to convert. To her years spent training in the Academy during period when relations between two races were less than ideal, helped a little in that department. It was always more gratifying to curse one's mother in their own language.

"Gentlemen," Shepard cut in, strutting into the corridor. She stood next to the turian with a jovial smile. "I shall take this esteemed politician to safety of the precinct."

"Commander Shepard," they saluted without question.

"This way sir," she said with a radiant smile guiding him to the elevator. Reluctantly but with a huff he complied. One did not deny a Spectre's offer of protection.

"I'll make sure that the Council hears of the happenings here today," he said almost immediately as the door shut.

"Captain Bailey will certainly appreciate any congratulations you might have to offer," she replied easily.

"Congratulations?!" His mandibles flared in indignation. "If that human had done his job as he should have from the beginning this wouldn't have happened. Of course, none of this would happen if a turian had still been in charge of C-Sec as it used to be."

"I take it I too fall short of the acceptable category? My feelings are hurt."

"You are a Spectre. Even as a human I fully expect you to dedicate yourself to Council's bidding. Which is the only thing you seem good for," he added under his breath.

"Such a selective view of humans you have there. The stories I could tell you of turians I have encountered would make us humans appear saints to the galaxy." The Warden of Purgatory came to forefront of her mind. Now that she thought about it more clearly, it seemed that most turians hated her guts, medium or well done. With the exclusion of Garrus, although with recent events firing up his metallic blood the question was raised.

He snarled, "If you think that that I'll stand here and listen to you slander my-…" With a sudden choke Joram Talid grabbed onto his chest, soaked and blue tinted material. A bewildered glance down and his hand reached to touch a small but precise hole in his chest. He did not see her pull out her pistol or hear the shot being fired. His failing eyes were already unable to focus on human Spectre before him. Sofia holstered her gun, one hand gently holding onto him while the other fiddled with a combination lock on holographic keyboard.

"This is not something you should take personally, good sir," she said softly with a murmur as the elevator slowed down and one of two possible service doors opened – the one on the floor – and the human nudged the turian towards it.

"Should have known… human- who… paid you…?"

"Should someone pay me? As you have said, I am but a humble Spectre in the service of the Council; and times are too dangerous and enemies too numerous. A rabble-rouser is not needed."

His eyes dead and his brain were shutting down when she pushed him into the hole of elevator shaft. With a few more clicks door slid shut and locked in place, and the elevator resumed with its usual speed. With little luck the Keepers will dispose of his body the same way they dispose of dead children never to be found. As the elevator reached the ground floor with a hum and a ding her face was already composed for next stage.

"Commander?" They saluted in union and looked around and behind her. "…Where's Talid?"

Sofia shrugged and shook her head sadly, "The presence of this human caused him ill. He wished to take another path down to you." She waved the officers as she left the building.

*/*/*/*/*


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.

**Note:** Very minor game dialogue usage.

**Note#2:**English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.

* * *

*ch7.

Back and forth; back and forth she rocked the chair.

Sitting in front of Bailey's desk there was little else for her to do but fool around to ease her unusually accumulated impatience. Time seemed to trickle away exceedingly slow, even by 'patient shepherd's' standards. Bailey, for whom this kind of waiting was probably part of job description, continued to type away at his holo-keyboard as if Mardi Gras paraded on his screen. After awhile he raised his keen, suspiciously narrowed eyes to look at excessively bored Spectre sitting before him.

"You know, Joram still hadn't surfaced to make headline news out of this incident."

"Oh, I'm fairly certain he'll surface. Eventually," Shepard replied thoughtfully still rocking the chair. And she'd prefer if that happened later rather than sooner. "Politicians being what they are, he is most likely just residing temporarily in the underbelly of the Citadel. Hiding and such."

She met captain's eyes. The expression he wore on his face told her quite clearly and with no misunderstanding involved, 'I am not an idiot, don't treat me as one.' She looked away feeling just a tad miffed. Ah well, she wasn't trying that hard to hide it to begin with.

"I don't think I'll ever figure out why Spectre operate the way you do." The man pulled back. Spectre and C-Sec never got along; their methods would clash like two enraged krogans on the opposite sides of the battlefield. For an ordinary cop anywhere agents with top clearance were known to be a pain in the ass; and Spectre didn't pause to speak pleasantries before butting in to take over operations. Shepard certainly wasn't going to give him clear how, where or why Joram disappeared, though he had more than one idea. "I don't even know why I bother."

"If it is of any consolation, all we do is in an effort to fight off evil invading aliens from beyond the reaches of the known space who wish to consume our bodily liquids for some nefarious design of their own," Shepard recited in what should pass as apologetic tone.

Eyebrow raised, cresses of his forehead twisted, "Right."

"And, we are well paid to do it."

"Clearly, I'm in the wrong profession."

Grinning Shepard leaned back and with a light sigh turned to look at that still closed door of cell block. "They've been in there awhile."

He followed her eyes and shifted in his chair, "Ehh, kid's been through a lot." His fingers continued working on the keyboard, pulling out files on the screen. "I've ran some searches in the C-Sec archive. About ten years back a bunch of real bad people were killed. Like someone was cleaning house. The prime suspect was a drell. We never caught him."

Rocking of the chair slowed and stopped. Her feet came in contact with the floor with a 'thud'. "That is a long time to keep a case open, captain. Have you considered the one responsible probably not existing anymore?"

At least by this point they understood each other – spoke the same language, one would say. So Bailey dropped the matter, sealing the files of unresolved and cold murder cases. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that."

Hissing of the door in the background alerted both of them as one drell stepped out, standing tall and straight, yet with an air around him familiar to her. Shepard cocked her head at his approach, eyes downcast at Bailey's half-transparent holo-screens.

"Will everything be in order?" She asked not looking up.

"Our problems are… they aren't something I can fix with a few words. We'll keep talking. See what happens." Shepard leaned a bit listening to his voice – a titter of hope, a bit of desperation, caught between the two.

"Your boy shot some people," Bailey started, cutting in on matters yet to be resolved. "No one I feel sympathy for, but there it is."

Sofia let out a bark of quick laugh, "They were as criminal as most of your esteemed visitors, if not more so."

"But he can't just get away with it."

"Then allow him to acquaint himself with the real world. Some community service will do him good."

The Captain let out a disbelieving snort, "Community service for attempted murder? What jury would agree to that?"

"And there is a need to involve one? The boy didn't actually commit any murder, now did he? And about the only thing that krogan had bruised – because wounding would be giving Kolyat too much credit – was his pride." Eyes closed her head inclined to the side slightly, "I am truly and sincerely sorry to say this Thane, but your son does not posses a hand calm enough to handle a gun."

"A flaw I would not rush to correct," he replied with relief almost. One of few instances where the father was overjoyed to have his son not inherits certain gifts and skills.

Bailey looked between the two. Subtly said, there wasn't much he could do when a marauding Spectre and Hero come back from the grave ask him to turn a blind eye at the events transpired. Furthermore, and more important, he cared very little about regulations by the end of the day. "Interesting. I'll think about it." Bailey stood up and shook hands with Thane.

"Thank you captain."

A fine example of two men who had a capacity to care but ultimately failed in parenting, Shepard mused. One of life's ironies, if she had to guess.

The small shuttle was there waiting to take them back to the docking bay, and as Shepard nestled herself in the driver's seat she let out a little hum. "And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and a man on the moon," eyes focused on the traffic she recited with a light tune following her words.

"Shepard?" He questioned but she shook her head.

"An old Earth song. It has striking similarities with you. But all in all, nothing too important."

But she did not look at him after that. It could have been the gradual development of familiarity around captain or just his training kicking in, but he noticed that her eyes remained focused ahead of her, even sliding past him as they've entered the ship. After that, he had not seen her for the next two days.

*/*/*/*/*

Shepard rubbed her forehead.

They were in FTL for fifteen – _fifteen_ – minutes only when duty, like a whore in heat, snuck up at her from behind the corner. Granted, it had been one day, seventeen hours and fifteen minutes but such insignificant details were easy to slip by when one's head was submerged deep into the crevices of mining nuisances.

Especially when the tragedy of cold coffee struck along with it. The day cannot begin, go and end well if she is so preoccupied that even her favorite beverage has to take second chair when compared to threat that Collectors presented. In her mind something clicked together violently. Ancient Protheans of misfortunate fate or not, those creatures were a menace and a plague upon her daily schedule and would simply have to go.

And she would make sure there would be no trace of them to be found right after she regained her freedom from Doctor Chakwas' evil instruments of torture. A very cliché and biased outlook which had nothing to do with doctor's mountain-size expertise but was solely based on her all encompassing need to complete her rounds around the ship – ergo, provide moral support for the crew and make sure Miss Chambers realize she will be feeding the fuzzy little creature, extreme compulsion to gag or no.

"Well, you have managed to return from the Citadel in one piece. I'm impressed."

Sofia let out a wheeze when Chakwas inspected closed bullet hole on her shoulder. It stopped hurting a while now but it was still relatively fresh in her mind. It didn't happen that often that a team member was a reason for her to visit the infirmary.

"An astute observation," Shepard said pulling away from scanning equipment. For highly futuristic instruments intended to heal, they were unpleasantly cold as hell. A bit more comfort where their patients are concerned should have come as forethought. "But it was only possibly for Udina dared not to try attempt on my life. Dearly as he wished it…"

"That man only ever cared about himself," ship's doctor spoke in terse tone before suddenly grabbing hold of her patient's shoulder and yanking Shepard to face her. "Your implants are starting to show." Chakwas said after a moment of scrutinizing her commander's face.

"They do not!" Shepard exclaimed in a mortified voice, hand flying to her cheek.

"Have you looked yourself in the mirror at all lately?"

Ah, the stern voice of a chief doctor. Chakwas was in mood to scold. Wonderful.

"I had a delightful shower, and have generally abused the bathroom all morning by acting like a female for once – so yes, I did happen to have a very good view of the mirror at the time." A truthful but not an entirely correct answer. She certainly had noticed the slight shift and change. With certain amount of resignation Sofia brushed away hair falling over her face, "'Tis my eyes only doctor. It is not as if my skin has started to crack." The look on good doctor's face didn't inspire confidence in bright, blemish-free future. "Yet. And going from violet to red, now at least they would mach my hair better, don't you think?"

Doctor Chakwas did not look amused, "You are working under too much stress. You personally may thrive on mayhem and chaos but those things inside you are not designed to withstand that." Shepard paused in her thought. Chakwas showed good amount of knowledge regarding 'things inside of her'. It was not all that unreasonable to think that Miranda might have delivered some general information about her implants to ship's doctor. After all, it was not only the health of the crew she had to monitor but of the unpredictable Commander as well – and with enough metal under her skin to make a small tennis ball Shepard needed watching over.

"I know," Shepard replied surprisingly plainly while pulling white shirt over her head. "I've already asked Mordin earlier if he could spare an hour or two to check the schematics and structure of the implants. To see if something can be done to improve and make them keep up with my overly active and adventurous life."

"Did he agree?"

"Did I allow him to say no?"

The older woman sighed sounding tired, "This kind of behavior is precisely the only reason I could think off to make you a single person in the galaxy that is able to burn through implants designed to bring dead to life."

"I completely agree. I am special like that."

"Modest too."

"Only when it is absolute truth." Her self-satisfied smile was cut short when she heard a near silent beep and her onmi-tool sprung to life. Her smile faltered. Ah, the report she had inquired for earlier has finally come through. For two reasons exactly she had hoped it would not. Reason number one she would like to keep for herself; and as for the other, it was no fun being right all the time. At least it would get her out of the infirmary. Once more she plastered a smile on her face.

Chakwas shook her but smiled good-naturedly, "Well, your results are fine, for now, so I guess you can go on about your business of harassing everyone on board."

"Much obliged, doctor," Shepard chuckled climbing to her feet and pulling her black uniform back on.

"And get some rest," Chakwas called after retiring Commander with little hope that while heard there was little hope to be obeyed.

*/*/*/*/*

Sofia had considered pausing in before the door, and then remembered how unprofessional that would be – especially for someone of her reputation. Not to mention, she had already jammed the elevator between decks for extended periods of time to think things through with as clear head as possible. Some of the crew members gave her one and then both eyebrows raised seeing how she was the only visible passenger. The collective collection of dirty minds on this ship was staggering.

So she did what she did best – she marched in, all 'captain-of-the-ship' like, slowing down and stopped as she approached where the assassin sat, back to her. A screen, bright in color floated before him. Words and letters unfamiliar to her crisscrossed it but she lacked the necessary knowledge to decipher them. And even if she had, it was switched off before she would be able to glean any meaning from it.

"Am I interrupting?" She asked with unusually sedate tone.

He twisted in his seat slightly, observing her approach. "No, no. I have been recording a message for Kolyat."

"Things are going well, I hope?" She inquired taking a seat in front of him and crossing her fingers on the table, right across the datapad she had brought with her.

"It is difficult. All things worth keeping are," he clasped his hands noticing that something was slightly off.

She would have something to say to that. It was very much in her nature to throw remarks left and right like spare coin. Sometimes she would even throw in a pearl among them. But with only a nod there were no coins and no pearls today. In fact, without her grin, taunting words and spark of genuine mischief, the commander looked smaller, ordinary and in retreat almost. There was a frown, eyes hard and firmly focused before her, yet not on him. It was nothing he could tie to her usual behavior. Briefly he wondered if something had occurred onboard Citadel, something which escaped his notice.

Her fingers drummed along the smooth surface of the datapad. He saw her place it facedown on the table when she first came in. Like a card. In his life he had witnessed humans play earth originated card game exactly twenty-three times. He could easily imagine someone like Shepard play cards. Bet, bluff, cheat. Read her opponent.

"You mentioned earlier you were interested in learning the identities of those who set him up," her voice returned him from a short burst of memory of his younger days traveling off world, and he looked up at her with open curiosity. "Is that still the case?"

His eyes went back to the pad before him.

Facedown. A joker. And it had nothing to do with the pilot.

She pushed it towards him

Now here was a question with no easy answer. Did he want to know who had set up his child on this dangerous path, nearly ruining him? Did it matter at all now? It was not as if he would have time to hunt them down, learn why they did what they did. Not in his condition, and certainly not with Shepard's suicidal goal loaming ahead.

There was another matter to consider. An important one. In the final count, the informant had spoken of nothing but truth. Truth he had kept hidden from Kolyat for so long. Had he been more open, and not neglected his existence… There were far too many 'maybe-s' and 'what if-s' in his tale.

So who was to blame?

He placed his hand on the datapad, still facedown, and pushed it back. Her joker.

"There is no need for it Shepard. Not anymore." He folded his hands together, calm. Shepard would even say calmer than she had seen him before.

She returned his look for a brief moment before she picked the pad herself, eyes focused and narrowed on the content. "This option," she paused taping her knuckle against the surface storing information, "will not be available again."

He understood. What she offered here today was a one time deal. Strangely enough, it didn't bother him as much as it perhaps should have.

"I am certain," resonating calm in his voice confirmed what his words told her. Pressing a button or two she placed it back on the table, face up this time. It was blank, content deleted, but his eyes remained focused on her rather than gadget.

Shepard pushed away in her chair and stood up. "Mr. Krios," she replied as farewell before leaving life support.

She had left the empty datapad behind.

One time deal.

*/*/*/*/*

What occupied this man's thoughts was probably self-explanatory. It also fell under scope so big, common people dared not to even consider as a possibility. Most notably his mind pivoted around the latest, largest and most expensive of his investments yet. He could say many things about this investment – most notably that she made, broke and taped back together rules under which she worked. It was predictable enough pattern to follow.

And also had scheduled a meeting with him on her own volition.

She was also late.

As of siphoning into his thoughts the hologram linking Normandy to Illusive Man's secretive office flared up. Empty at first, causing a passable case of mild surprise, until a chair being dragged in the center materialized followed by Shepard, who promptly settled herself in it with a light huff. His eyebrow arched and smoke curled from his cigar waiting, but she didn't speak, just tapped a few buttons on her omni-tool. Blazing orange holographic screen popped up next to man's chair and he glanced, almost with disinterest at it.

"Thirty thousand credits? I have to say I did find myself somewhat stumped, if only for a moment, after noticing that drastic incline in my 'personal' account." Her cybernetic eyes settled on his as she leaned back. "One might almost come to conclusion that you have hired me to outright remove Talid from political stage."

"Don't flatter yourself, Shepard. You already have a target to deal with," he gestured at her and then paused, inhaling thick smoke. "When Talid had grown to become a problem he would have been dealt with accordingly."

"But now, he won't ever grow to become a problem and therefore you will not be having minor distractions in the future where your attention will be fully occupied by Reapers. A most propitious course of events for you that he had to cross my path," she paused and grinning stretched her legs in front of her. "But you knew that already, being involved in the plot as it were." He was silent and thoughtful, and didn't deny it. And there was no need for him to say anything. "I'd love to call you a manipulative scumbag for testing my crew like that," Shepard chuckled finally with mirth leaning forward slightly, "but I am actually somewhat fond of your style."

"We had spent years studying your behavioral patterns Shepard. The choice of individuals for your team has been made on more than just their abilities. Certain compatibility with your way of thinking was also required."

"You profiled me all too well," she answered with a smile instead. Sofia hated when people profiled her. It destroyed any chance of taking them by surprise. "Although, the curiosity is eating me up and I find myself having to ask; how many more of surprises am I to expect form you?"

The cigar was methodically quenched in the black ashtray, electric blue eyes gleaming from shadow. On screens behind him her quick eyes caught the sight of files listing one behind the other. "As many as are necessary to defeat the Collectors."

She couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing.

There were too many similarities between them for Shepard to feel at ease around him. This lack of comfort she covered well – for one, a man like the Illusive Man would seek to exploit any weakness she might present like a hungry shark; and for another, to work with a warped male version of herself was just too much fun.

Clearly, she was masochistic.

As her laughter subsided she wiped tears from the corner of her eyes, "I hope you have reasonable schedule for all of those because where servicing more than five people at the same time is concerned, I do have to say I'm a bit rusty."

"Considering your management up until this point, I have full confidence in your ability to organize."

"All is well then," Sofia said leaning back in her chair, shoulders relaxing. "Solving puzzles without reference has always been a fascination of mine."

Use and be used. That was how it was. That was how it would be. Cerberus used Shepard. Shepard used her crew. The crew used Shepard. A closed circle that never failed her before.

Sofia let out a low, constant chuckle and threw her head back and sighed.

Life had become so good to her.

*/*/*/*/*

Segment I ~ End

* * *

**Another Note:** Here I will say 'thank you' for all those who reviewed and favored the story, and even greater gratitude for the ridiculous (in a good way) number of people who had put it on story alert.

I also have to send big hugs, 'thank you-s' & cyber-cookies to Vickie1 for her support and help. Go read her story, it's definitely better themed and better structured than mine.

Next, the story is on hiatus until Segment II is all planned out. Or even** if** it gets planned out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** After one long pause we continue. I do not know the schedule in which this story will progress but I do know I enjoy writing it at the moment :) Let us hope I did not butcher the personalities of all around loved NPCs too much as they come in contact with my significantly 'not-all-there-in-the-head' Shepard.

**Note #2: **English is not my native language so mistakes will happen. Read, and in the case you enjoyed, review.

* * *

Segment II ~ Rough Seas

*ch8.

"Another one?"

Another one.

Shepard's expression of superficial puzzlement was replaced with easily accepted resignation. This had to be the third 'rescue-me' beacon in under two weeks. It inevitably reminded her of, oh so many times the old Normandy would cheerfully fly over a planet, unknown and distant and someone, usually a distressed human being, would signal her with a big, unneededly flashy 'save me' sign. It also usually involved a lot of murder and mayhem before reaching the goal.

"And thus I say goodbye to my and generally accepted and rational belief that, contrary to popular opinion, the universe does not fall into fragments with my absence. EDI." It was decided. Once her life was well and truly over (preferably to old age) the Council shall either need to re-discover Cerberus' Lazarus technology of resurrection or clone her, for who else would have the patience and generosity to solve galaxy's problems with such diligence?

"Yes, Shepard?" Blue sphere lit up next to the door.

"I shall require a shuttle," she ordered pulling herself from her comfortable and oh so rarely used chair – though, it would disturbing yet accurate, to say it was used by far more often than her bed. "I'll see what this signal may or may not be."

"Very well, Commander. Which of your team am I to notify for this mission?"

"Team?" Shepard paused in rummaging through her armory, utterly perplexed. "Dear me, EDI. It is a beacon and a wreck upon a dead planet. I believe I can handle this one on my own."

"I have detected movement on the surface of the planet, though it is not organic. I fully recommend that you take someone with you, Shepard," was a stern reprimand from EDI. Commander Shepard could accept rebukes from her subordinates – so long as they were not organic and did not snigger while doing so. EDI was very cordial with her rebukes.

"Oh, busy-bother!" Sofia threw her hands in the air with a huff, "If anyone is interested in enjoying some leisure time on the surface of a freezing, dust covered planet they are welcome to join me in the hangar." She paused in putting on her armor, she has already managed to snuggle on parts covering her hips, and looked up as if remembering something vital, "And in the meantime, do tell Joker to take over the mining operation. This way, he can fracture his thumb on something other than mute."

*/*/*/*/*

She went down to the armory to equip herself with a special brand of dangerous marbles, and with a joyfully good mood present in her step took an elevator down to hangar only to make an unplanned stop at crew's deck. She was just musing convoluted thoughts of many ways to both quicken and slow this mission down as to out-plan and out-maneuver the Collectors who seemed to keep themselves busy as she ran around doing things that could count for nothing but were still something – over her shotgun when the elevator door slid open. At first she didn't look up until slight shuffle reached her ears. Then she did, taking in the shadow before returning the attention back on her weaponry.

"Human teeth and jaw structure lack the necessary strength to bite through your plating, my esteemed colleague," she said evenly, with outmost disinterest. Before her the turian seemed to hesitate before stepping in, the door closing behind him. For a moment he looked uncomfortably… tense. She would have gone for the word 'fine' until suddenly and with a quick scuffle with elevator controls he stopped it between decks. Shepard looked around, lights were still on thankfully, and sighed most dramatically, "A most peculiar way for you to stop ignoring me. Just the two of us, and stuck between floors. Very twentieth century."

He shook his head as if tired of something. Quite possibly her, and the unspoken tension which had grown between them in the last few weeks of non-communication. "You never make things simple for those around you."

"I object! I've made them plenty simple. For me," she quipped all smiles. Could be real ones too. Could not be.

He looked at her, that mask she called face. He didn't know if what she did was common for other humans – he didn't know that many to judge. Oh, he had come to terms long ago with her quirks, or the fact that if he was to travel by her side, fight the enemies she challenged (sometimes for fun) he'd have to file it away somewhere in his brain that Shepard's way of 'molding' her crew was contradictory at best, and liable to drive them enraged at worst.

Shepard didn't help really, because Shepard didn't really care. She'd play and mix until she'd find the perfect combination for anyone in her vicinity. She didn't give people what they want, even if they begged for it – she'd give them what they need, especially when they cursed her for it. She seemed to relish in people's hatred towards her.

And oddly enough Garrus had come to accept it. How couldn't he? He would have to pack up and leave otherwise. That and he couldn't really deny the results she brought on the table.

"I never thanked you for your help with Sidonis, haven't I?" He started awkwardly (a fine way to break the ice) as if words had difficulty to pass formed from his head to his tongue, but Shepard for once was mercifully quiet. "It's just that… Back then, when we killed Dr. Saleon, you were the one who taught me that killing is best solution," he said pacing from one side of the elevator to the other. "And now you turn the whole thing around by throwing mercy into it."

"Untrue," she shook her head reattaching her shotgun back against the small of her back. "What I told you was to always keep your eyes, and thus your scope, on the target. Now, as to choosing your targets in a manner that would not cause more harm to your person than your regular slaying does, unless you're feeling particularly masochistic or are that far gone not to care – that is a great riddle you'll have to solve for yourself." She turned her lazy gaze, currently masquerading as indignation, towards him, "And just so we clear out our account books: I was the one to pull the trigger on kind, old Dr. Saleon."

"You, me…" he gestured at both of them, "He died then and there. We didn't bring him in. Law had nothing to do with it."

Sofia regarded him silently before shrugging the whole matter off, "Spectre." He snorted. It was her choice of answer when she didn't want to give one. She gravitated towards him, "I don't have an answer for you Garrus. Not any that would be to your liking, anyway. You will go through the same metamorphosis, and learn to pick and choose. The alternative of cutting yourself off from every fiber of your empathy is less pleasant." She paused, looked away eyes glazing in though, "Unless such cutting off had happened in early childhood, in which case none of it matters. I should really re-read those psychology tomes," she added under her breath a reminder to herself.

He shook his head paying less attention than usual to her go-around, "Is this how it's going to be from now on? All shades of gray?"

"Ah sadly, no. I know full well where I stand with the Reapers, for instance." And that was a dreadful tragedy right there. She usually loved compromises but those which held a stipulation for her to be dead, were simply not functional as far as she was concerned.

Something akin to stifled laughter escaped his lips, "So I've been an ass lately for nothing."

"Never for nothing. Though I suppose that as your superior commander, it would be my duty to make feel just a bit better after days of feeling worthless and conflicted. Therefore, I advise you to join me on a shooting outlet."

"You've pissed off someone else already?" He asked causally. Shepard's steely gaze recommended caution.

"Garrus, my trusted friend," his mind immediately raced back to the Citadel and threats involving pain and agony and unshared coffee, "by now you should have learned that I do not need to 'piss people off' in order to shoot them." Too true. "Regarding today," her tone once more turned lighthearted, "EDI believes I am to go in a territory fraught with perils untold. At best, there will be an adrenaline rush. At worst, it will be a casual stroll, no more. It does not promise excitement but you are welcome to tag along," she put on her helmet, narrow red visor obscuring her face.

"Sure. Better than spending all my time thinking myself in a loop." There was a snort, or a giggle, or a cough even from the corner of the elevator where Shepard stood. The helmet revealed nothing. Free from the breaks the elevator door slid open once more on crew's deck, they hadn't moved up or down that much to begin with, and Garrus stepped out. "I'll go and get my weapons."

Shepard waved goodbye at him and as he stepped away she spotted Thane making his way to the mess hall. Ah-ha! He had taken her advice and was finally leaving his self-imposed isolation. That made her very pleased indeed. Noticing her in the elevator he gave her a small, curt nod of acknowledgement. In return Shepard bowed with a flamboyant flourish before the door closed and grinned under her helmet.

A true gentlemen. As it turned out, they were not a mythological supposition. On a verge of extinction perhaps, but not the beings of legends just yet. That thought made her pause in horror, for the first time in a while. Had she taken along the last known specimen with her on what could very well be a suicide run? Shortening his accessibility by a year?

Oh, the females of any species in need of cordial treatment will never forgive her! Death in a most gruesome way possible awaited her first!

Funnily enough, that thought caused her more worry than a fleet of Reapers ever could.

*/*/*/*/*

Further down, in the hangar it was quite a surprise for her to see Jack, of all possible members of her squad – and the only member of her squad who made no pretense of how much she wanted to paint the inside of Normandy with Sofia's bowels, and it had nothing to do with Cerberus, mind you – stepping out of the shuttle with a gun in her hand, she always had that thing with her, and as comfortably dressed in her tattoos only as ever. Shepard actually felt a small shiver at the prospect of going out like that. Style just wasn't worth freezing her womanly parts off.

But back to Jack – a bit extreme description of their relations but the 'killing' part was essentially the same.

"My, my. What could have possibly EDI bribed you with for you to join me on this dull excursion on this day?"

Jack shrugged unimpressed, "Wasn't planning to go down. Just wanted to talk."

Shepard paused in her steps before approaching the shuttle. Jack looked calm and thus this conversation had a potential to go way up or end up in depths of hell depending on who pulled out the big guns first. "To inform you, I do have a secretary. Two in fact. And an onboard AI with a lovely personality who would have gladly pointed me in your direction should you only dare to ask."

The expression Jack treated her with could only be described as the look of someone who didn't buy a single word that came out of her mouth, not even for 0.99 credits. "You took classes for talking shit like that?"

"You know they were the best kind, Jack," Shepard chuckled alluding to something only the two of them could understand. In retrospect, it was not the smartest thing to say as reacting volatilely and in blue light of biotics Jack slammed the Commander back against the shuttle though Shepard didn't resist, beyond losing some of her breath, and just stared back at the fury in biotic's dark eyes. Sad eyes too but that was to be kept under wraps. Sofia might've even been grinning under her helmet. Most likely considering that on the best of days she didn't have to say a word to piss Jack off, and she liked to talk before people decided that going for her jugular was in order.

"You don't know what it was like!" Jack bit out. "Living on the streets is nothing compared to what Cerberus did to me Shepard."

"Oh, it's bad Jack. A different type of bad but, depending of the street, it can as certifiably screw you up as much as any scientist with plethora of medical equipment." This candid comparison, whether it was true or false, only seemed to rile the biotic up more and Shepard took hold of fist firmly planted against her heck. There was a gun somewhere in there too, planted against Jack's skin and ready to do what it was designed for at close range. Jack was a biotic marvel and Shepard was in no mood to burn down the house today by the virtue of testing who'd draw the first blood.

"But what I was is not an open topic today. And were I to mean to rub it in your face you'd be the first to notice the change in demeanor, believe me," Sofia said and her tone did not soften the way it would were she speaking with someone else – it was harsh – and waited until something lit up behind her eyes and Jack reined in her anger enough to let go with a frustrated growl. She didn't want to kill her. Maybe tomorrow but not today.

"Now, what was it that you wanted to share with me?" Shepard asked dusting the non-existing specks of dust and filing away her pistol.

Grim expression settled across her features and Jack waved the whole conversation away. "Nothing. Forget it," and with that the tattooed woman climbed into the shuttle. Sheppard watch her go blinking.

"Oh? And here I thought you have decided, quite firmly, that you weren't coming along."

"I am now."

"Are you sure you wish to stretch your legs on the surface of the planet whose average and most reasonable offer of temperature for walkabout is minus twenty-five degree Celsius?" Sofia insisted.

"Will you fucking shut up! Jesus…" came from the inside of the shuttle.

"Not in the last lifetime and not in this, Suze," Shepard muttered having an itch to rub her tearing eyes but the presence of helmet interfered. She should delegate these tearful moments full of emotion better – two today and the day has only begun.

Just then Garrus chose to walk in, causing her to look up, while setting his sniper against his back. He caught maybe a fraction of tense atmosphere. He looked ship's commander and then up at shuttle where the melting pot of crazy was stewing.

"Did something happen?" He asked somewhat cautiously.

"An unrequited need for romantic relationship cleverly disguised as sexual tension. True love, I tell you," Shepard gently explained. It was accompanied by a vicious, almost animal like snarl coming from the inside of the vessel.

"Right," was a dry remark of acknowledging that he had no idea want was going on. He rubbed his head. "Why do I even ask?"

"Because you're helplessly curious," Sofia exclaimed starting forward, than changed her mind, turned back and stopped very close to him and whispered in a conspiratorially low voice, "You're sitting next to her."

Garrus' mouth snapped shut.

He should have seen that one coming.

*/*/*/*/*


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** English is not my native language so mistakes will happen. Read, and in the case you enjoyed, review.

* * *

Segment II ~ Rough Seas

*ch9.

"Well, if the signal ever wore off, the crash site would still be an easy find," Shepard made a comment looking over the bright area the shuttle flew over. Now, Neith as a planet was already covered in wracked ships to begin with – battles of old and all. To locate the one of interest to them at the moment did not depend on the strength of the beacon but one old and very important element to any human being – and some non-human.

Fire.

And it burned so bright they've spotted quite a long distance before they landed.

"Depending on how much fuel they've had when they crashed it will be burning for a while now," the turian offered. Shepard nodded several times consenting.

"Yes, well, let us land and prove to be of use to other ships by preventing them from stumbling into this section of the galaxy for no apparent good reason."

As they landed, in a rather small, narrow area crowded with debris of every size and material whilst flames rose like walls on all sides, the shuttle VI warned them of approaching storm and decreasing visibility accompanying it. It was as good motivation as any to keep this short. A truly uneventful trip.

"So what are we doing here?" Jack asked once they've stepped out of the shuttle. She raised her arm to shield her eyes from the winds and sharp sand grains all tangled together and offering to blanket them. Amidst it all Shepard's red visor burned with menace almost even if her voice did not match the picture she was presenting.

"Deactivate the beacon," she started surveying the landing zone then turning back to her crew. "Procure unmentionables that might be used, useful or sold. Take a breath of fresh air as necessary. Shake, stir, mix and serve. But we need not do it all in that order."

The order caused Garrus to raise an eyeridge, "So we're scavengers now?"

"One man's trash is another man with a quarian friend's treasure," Shepard explained, "Not to mention, and in case the glaringly obvious fact hadn't fluttered by your brain by now, Cerberus – don't sneer – is not a charity organization. I know. I was earnestly shocked after checking our collective bank account. Therefore, the pay is not up to the standards as it should be."

"We have a bank account?"

"Pay? I haven't seen a single fucking credit since coming on board."

"Hadn't those exact words just left my mouth?" Sofia asked exasperated, then shrugged. "On that account, my apologies. I'm still working on rectifying that trite mistake. Provided I don't divert it all into ship's betterment," she added in a quiet mutter consoling with her inner thoughts. Then animated once more she gestured at the scattered ruin before them and yelled, "Until then, spread out in search for tasteful goodies!"

As per commander's orders – and wondering just a bit if it was all worth the nerves – they did, and they have even managed to salvage a thing or three or a quarter of two, raw materials which could still be used, even credits were left lying around. While her crewmembers did their jobs diligently, Shepard herself was more interested in data and reports she had found scattered. In fact, the scattering was done so neatly in her path she was all but tripping over them.

"A merchant freighter," she said after taking a moment to go quickly over them. "Mm-hmm, systems on board systematically started to fail, VI on rampage, mechs activating and self-detonating," she hummed before tone of her voice switched to excited. "Well, now we've been illuminated that it were no pirates who made the ship plow into a planet of such a wonderful and befitting name. That is always important and useful information to know but now we are left with the puzzling question of what did."

"It could've been any number of things, Commander. Sabotage, malfunction in the systems, a virus…"

"They've made a stop at this station," she pointed at the name among data to her turian companion. "Jarrahe."

"Could be worth checking out," Garus nudged.

"Worth, of course. Fun too." She tossed the datapad over her shoulder, "When we're not saving all of existence from being culled. Now, do you think leaving the decision to or not to go to Jack would make it more interesting?" She didn't even finish her thought when his head slowly started moving from side to side. It was a cringe worthy idea actually. The station was likely not to contain enough excitement to satisfy both of their carnage oriented cravings at the same time. "You don't think it is a good notion," Sofia observed with a smile. "I myself would be tempted to ask but I am to guess that she is still pouting, yes?"

Indeed, somewhere to their left a loud sound of metal grinding painfully as it was being shifted none to gently echoing. It was followed by the rolling cacophony of burning rubble thundering across the shredded ship's side. Without helmets they were wearing it would surly made for an ear-ripping experience as the noise grind its way into their skulls. The cycle of bad mood seemed unbreakable with that one.

"Commander," Garrus started questioningly stepping next to Normandy's captain and lowering his rifle.

"Yes, my sharply shaped friend."

"I've noticed some tension between you and Jack." Shepard tried to give him a look of pure innocence as much as it was possible through the menacingly designed red visor – the two didn't correspond well. "I meant more than your usual driving people up the wall," he clarified.

"So long as it isn't against the wall," Shepard answered as a matter of fact tone causing Garrus to groan – or choke, the wind was pretty strong – and Sofia chuckled. "Now, tension. You must mean the kind of likes had nearly created a miniature black hole within the confines of our ship, yes? It exists, I'm sad to say." She looked up at the tall alien and patted his shoulder, "Now, now. You need not worry. I plan to limit my intrusiveness level to only so much so she does not dispatch this ship's captain."

"Oh, you'll live I'm sure. It's the rest of the crew I'm worried about," was Garrus' dry reply.

Yes, yes, she echoed his meaning perfectly. Which is why, as per captain's orders, infighting was strictly prohibited on her ship. With the diversity of crew Shepard tended to pull in and around herself it would only be a matter of time before someone, somewhere, on some deck decided there was some issue to settle – which would usually lead to another trying to settle theirs and so on and so forth – escalating the matter to unimaginable. This is why shore leaves existed and why Shepard was so keen on letting her crew use up every last minute of it. It was either that or selling them off and that was a whole different bag of dirt she didn't want to put her hand into.

As they proceed they've discovered that of all things the beacon was placed neatly on a pedestal in the furthest corner of the small area, surrounded by rock walls and undamaged crates. Considering the distinct lack of survivors who could so such a thing, this could look off to anyone with only a half a brain useable. Something was missing – a lot of things actually – but this one thing seemed to crawl under the surface of her skull as Shepard surveyed the small loft of ground. She stood there for a moment and kept observing.

"Hey, did a genius in you notice something out of a place here?" Jack tossed as she finally decided to join them.

"Oh, several. But that depends on which of 'out of place' sight do you mean."

"The bodies?" Garrus asked. "Those probably burned on impact."

"No, not those. Well, yes. But no. Although even so, we should have seen a greater deal of them scattered. But she doesn't mean that, no." Shepard acknowledged stepping up and with a touch of a few buttons she deactivated the signal.

"What then?"

"The mechs," Jack said, deadpan expression of someone explaining what the gun was for to an idiot. Not a tone Garrus appreciated. "See any of those around here? This was supposed to be a cargo ship, so where are all the damn robots?"

A poorly aimed shot sundered the piece of metal debris near to their left and their heads collectively spun around to peer into the rising sand. Like in a grand play, metrological conditions have instantly gone from bad to a bad curtain.

"There," was Shepard's pointed answer.

Garrus took his sniper rifle firmly in his hands, the scope on his head narrowing at the targets slowly emerging from the dust covered air and heading in their direction. Red lights on their heads could barely be seen through the rising sandstorm when they started raining the fire on them.

"I think we've got their attention."

Under her helmet Sheprad pressed her lips into a dour smile, "I'm still waiting for an adequate explanation as to why exactly they've come out of hiding once the beacon was shut." There was more to say and even more to think about except, this was not the best of times for holding a conversation – not that it ever stopped her before – but with the mechs coming from both paths, covering them with fire and aiming to trap them in the cove around the now dead beacon all they could do was jump for cover.

It was not the most organized showdown of them all. Not with Garrus picking them off one by one as they passed by his aim on her right; not with Jack threatening to bring a landslide of fire and metal on her left; and certainly not with Commander herself who was spending a good time contemplating why, once more in her life, she had not packed a crate full of grenades – Feros was happening all over again. During this display the machines simply kept marching onwards – and it begged the question as to where exactly they were being spawned from – prevented any sort of meaningfully applicable tactics. For every four they took down, six crept out from the wreck. As if the crates in which they were stored didn't receive so much a dent upon impact. Rain of bullets ricocheted around the edges of cargo boxes, now serving as mediocre protection, which have hardly survived the crash and were now under heavy fire.

"'Rush of adrenaline at best', she said," Garrus grumbled loudly. "'Leisurely stroll at worst,' she said. Why do I keep listening to you?"

"Because I tend to run into an obscene number of bad, bad people for you to shoot." Sofia tossed with a chuckle ducking back beside him after taking down three of the mechs. She herself didn't consider the situation they've found themselves in a particularly dangerous one – unless one counted tedium and lack of thermal clips dangerous – pressed against rock wall and a seemingly never-ending militia of mechs marching towards them. She leaned over aiming at one slowly dragging itself forward but the sight of a spark coming from behind it, which grew bigger the moment she poked her head out, made her duck behind all over again. Violent explosion rocked the debris around them, including that behind which they were hidden.

"That was a grenade launcher, wasn't it?"

"I dare say it was."

"What were they packing here? A small army?"

"Small armies are popular with local crime lords I hear." Another explosion, accompanied with the heavy march of one or two or more of those large brutes. "I find it more interesting and partly disturbing that said mechs came fully equipped with weapons. I fail to see the profit in packaging it all in one single bundle. Batteries not included – is what was spoken in advertisements a long time ago." Rapid rain of gunfire drummed along the edges of the crate she was hiding behind. It would have messed with her hair for sure were it not for her helmet. "A sentiment I agree with."

"Does it matter now? If we don't do something they'll just splatter us against the walls."

"I am well aware of tha-" A gun closely pressed against her helmeted chin interrupted what could be a lengthy speech. Jack's gun at that. By their side Garrus had one mech too much tipping over his scope to show any kind of worry for the Commander but he did took his eyes off the target for just a moment. "You could have chosen a slightly better time to let your frustrations out, Suze," Sofia said.

The usage of the name designed to provoke didn't pass over Jack's head and her eyes narrowed. "Listen to me Shepard. Once we're off this fucking planet you're setting course for Pragia, you've got that?"

Shepard glanced at the weapon at her throat and then back up at woman who had rage burning out of her eyes, and it was not meant to be poetic at all. "Would you object if I at least asked why?"

"There's some shit to deal with-"

"From your past per chance?" Shepard prodded and something akin to a snarl followed the question. Shepard took that as yes.

"And you're the one who's going to fly me there."

"Not that I mind your sudden need to bare your soul – quite a positive thing indeed – I just wonder if it was necessary for such a revelation to happen when we are surrounded by," she picked up a datapad lying by her feet, its screen was slightly cracked, "180 Loki mechs and, hmm, well the number of the big toys remains obscured but-" the explosion rocked the ground under their buttocks and fire roared to the sky as three subsequent explosions banged around their location. "At least we know that they are sufficiently stockpiled with ammo. Brilliant."

Grinding sound stifled the jangle of gunfire. Under duress of blazing inferno already damaged and scattered hull of the ship started to collapse around them. The situation they have found themselves was not envious.

"Fuck that!" Jack jumped. "I'm not going to wait here for them to blow a fucking crater while you screw your way through a dictionary."

"That would be a vocabulary-" Shepard started but Jack was already off.

Biotics flaring around her they watched as Jack rushed forward tearing through the number of at the heavy mech, the machine too slow to keep up with the human or the excessive damage this one was producing. Shepard went as far as to lean forward against one of the crates and cross her arms, gazing curiously at the wanton destruction colored in blue before her. Garrus took a peek over the edge reminding her of a chick taking his first look out of his nest, though he had more sense than to take a relaxing pose along the way.

"Great job at pissing her off on purpose, Commander," he deadpanned backing down and leaning against the crate. Shepard joined him.

"It takes a wonderful set of communication skills to be this good."

They watched a scene not unlike the one they've witnessed on Purgatory. On a smaller scale and there were no leaving beings screaming as their skin was being flayed off their bones through sheer biotic potency but the sight of rampage was as vivid as every time Jack would take charge of the battlefield. Guns and rifles were scattered in the air, mechanical body parts dotted what little ground was not covered in debris. And in the background of it all fires of the crashed ship raged.

Finally, from all the smoke Jack walked over to them, kicking a discarded YMIR mech's head out of her way, red light of its sensors still blinking as it shut down completely.

"As perfect plan as it can be," Shepard pointed out. Of course she was pocking and prodding the woman on purpose. Despite the fact that Jack was more than willing to fling herself in the heat of battle, berserk rage necessary to cause this level of destruction was not something Subject Zero could deliver if asked politely. And especially not when it was Shepard who did the asking, and when Shepard did the asking politeness was no longer an issue. "A clear line leading straight to the shuttle."

And said shuttle was ridiculously close to their location the whole time, but they've still managed to make a long march out of what could've been essentially a short stroll. Possibly because they've made sure every single mech from the crash was permanently disabled. Garrus just took the time to eliminate the one that took a wrong turn into their shuttle.

"To think we could've just run past them. It wasn't even that much of a distance," he said finally putting his weapon away.

"Killjoy," the Commander whistled. "And ruin all hard earned fun?"

He took a moment to glare at her and her abysmal wails, "I seem to remember that your 'fun' had me nearly killed on total of twelve occasions."

"And I seem to remember that you enjoyed it, thirteen out of those twelve times," Sofia returned with a grin to match his glare.

"You two get a room already," Jack tossed at them with a near tired sigh and sat on the base of the shuttle doors.

"Oh? I'm glad to see the freezing cold has not shriveled your observational skills, yes Jack," Sofia arched an eyebrow. "But a point, this location we are heading to…?"

"There's not much to talk about," she ran her hand over smooth surface of her head. "There's a place I want to blow up. Nothing big."

"We blow up a lot of places, Jack." No lie there. Roughly forty percent of ship's logs consisted of names and locations of places reduced to dust now.

"Not like this. I want to watch it burn until there's nothing left." Tone of her voice changed, dropped and grew thick. There was a sentiment woven in there Shepard was familiar with very much.

"Ah," she intoned, "this wouldn't happen to that dreadful Cerberus facility you were forced to endure."

"How do you-" head snapping up Jack was on her feet instantly, faint wobbling to her legs not even noticeable unless one looked for it. "Have you been spying on me Shepard? Watching me? You get a kick out of that?"

Shepard blinked, bemused, "Oh, heavens no – well, watching maybe – but no. Miranda's been feeding me reports on any datafile you've touched. I believe she fears you might spread contamination."

Jack let out a snort, "The cheerleader? You should really keep that bitch on a tighter leash, Shepard."

"If I had her on a tighter leash, she'd be sleeping at the foot of my bed," Sofia laughed. And for the first time since she met her Jack cracked a smile – a small, nearly unnoticeable one. "But, all in all, I don't see why not? You demolish Cerberus' operations brick by brick, or one plastic panel at the time as it is in this day and century-" Jack's expression took a clearly visible expression of 'get to the point or I shove biotic fist down to your kidneys' ergo, encouraging Sheprad to proceed in a more plane manner, "and I have been known to hunt thresher maws for fun."

Both human and turian turned to look at their respective captain with, and in Jack's case it was also clearly visible, bewildered expressions. Shepard returned that with one of her own personal brand of puzzlement.

"What? I do." She exclaimed as if it were the most normal and common stress relief practice in the world for any sane human. This was accompanied by a sorrowful sigh. "And I haven't seen that many of them since my resurrection. I can only hope they have not going extinct in the meanwhile."

"You're fucking nuts," Jack said and climbed onboard the shuttle. Shepard merely shrugged. Next to her Garrus went into that all familiar stance of uncomforted with a dash of confusion. He only needed to scratch his fringe to complete the look.

"Erhm… Watching?"

"Depends what I'm watching." She laughed, lightly hitting his chest plate as she moved passed by him, "There's a clearly liberal interpretation to my words, Garrus."

"Yes. Liberal," was a sole dry response he managed.

General census on the ship was that yes, Shepard was a red shade of insane.

*/*/*/*/*

"What a day, what a day…"

::Petitioners, petitioners and even more petitioners in need of rescuing::

Tossing her helmet clear across the room, and making it land perfectly in the center of her bed – biotics had more practical use than just wracking havoc in the battlefield – Shepard looked at the small holo of herself, posing in a rather bored manner. Although it made for a particular giggle and reasonable amount of ego feeding, it was still fun to hear her own little VI inform her of presence of new mail – buggy as seven hells, as Bailey had informed her but so worth it. EDI might disagree with its installment aboard her ship's systems, and Kelly could be mightily insulted by a presence of artificial yeoman but if there were fish in the wall and a hamster on the shelf, a personalized VI on her terminal was not stretching things too far.

And if it was, no one would dare to say it in the Commander Shepard's face.

She browsed through this batch of letters until she tripped upon a name of a very interesting sender. And the content itself proved to be mightily interesting. Potentially distracting. Certainly sidetracking. It would require some evasive maneuvering around her current set of duties.

She leaned back in her chair rubbing her chin and let out a little hum sounds. Without looking up from the print on her terminal Shepard signaled to Joker.

/"Commander?"/

"Helmsman! Set the course of our fair ship for Illium."

/"Eh, didn't we just set course for Pragia?"/

"A dead research base with dead people and dead memories can wait. I have living to accommodate to."

/"Aye, aye Commander."/

*/*/*/*/*


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:**You know what? I'm not even going to begin making excuses from now on. I don't plan on abandoning this story (especially with the mess ME3 turned out to be) but it's going to be written on its own pace.

…like you didn't know that already…

English is not my native language so mistakes will happen. Read, and in the case you enjoyed, and have not forgotten entirely about this story (and if you have, know that I'm not blaming you a single microscopic little bit), review.

Segment II ~ Rough Seas

*ch10.

Illium.

A glorified planet wide city of commerce, trade and opportunity.

And with such an underbelly of corruption to make Omega green with envy and stomp her high-heeled shoes in indignation.

Here even such mundane things as murders had a bit of extra flare to them. This was nothing like bodies being mowed in narrow secluded streets of Omega. And the local law enforcement liked to show that they were an active bunch, and surprisingly enough, most of the time they were. Praises and appreciations should be offered all around the table for having a standard than anyone was well and truly welcome in the detective's cell should they not meet the criteria and follow the rules as nebulous as only a mercantile planet such as Illium could bring forth. Oh, bloodletting happened in the blue planet as well – Shepard being a prime example of doing some decorative mowing in some of more, and let's refer to them as 'overgrown areas' – but rich traveling merchants had developed a whole culture of their own when it comes to lucrative ways of eliminating the opposition.

But today and here it was another matter entirely, and Shepard crossed and uncrossed her legs, armored boots clicking across the not-so-clean floor head moved to the left, then to the right, then once more fell back so she could look up at the ceiling lights, then leaned forward against the desk once more as she surveyed the images presented to her. Yes, Shepard could be a spectacle to observe even when she was in the process of careful contemplation.

It was not a grisly sight for one molded on the streets and hardened on the battlefield. Some of the furniture was tumbled over and the body itself was laid on the carpet between the heavy couch and small table shifted over. No blood covered the walls but it pooled on the floor under the blue body.

"And you say these were taken three days ago?" Shepard asked switching between images if the murder scene.

"Four," the detective corrected nodding. "With all the mercenaries on Illium murder is not uncommon at all. But we are in shortage of psychopaths who carve the name of the most famous human in the galaxy on the bodies of local residents."

And that was an 'alien' resident, not to forget. The guy probably wouldn't have the necessary strength to take down a krogan, and didn't have a blade sharp enough to slide easily past the turian natural armor. The hanar were an easy pick – if one was cleaver enough to get pass the natural obstacle of tentacles and toxins. Volus and quarian could be trickier to get out of those suits and get to juicy bits inside, but once you do they are as every bit as delicious as a marinated oyster. Hmm, that comparison had stirred a bit of a hunger there… Where was she heading with this? Yes! Quarians in particular could be quite helpless when their suits went awry. But the Asari… one untrained and in biotic ability was a cherry on top of an icing of a cake. They were just like humans, only dipped in blue.

"I know you have your plate full but I thought you might want to take a look at this," the detective said from the opposite end and Sofia could vaguely see the asari's face behind the hologram. Not a completely unexpected development but one she wished could have happened at a less poorly chosen time.

Sofia hummed. Head moved to the left, then to the right, then once more fell back as she regarded the ceiling lights. She rubbed her chin.

She had to be young, the victim that is, or relatively for the asari at least, and not proficient with biotics or she would have been able to defend herself from the assailant. Long enough to escape if nothing else. But no, here she lay, ravaged with blood marks and wild slashes, all crisscrossing each other in macabre dance on skin visible under torn clothes. And across it all, like a script upon vivid background from the junction of female's legs till between her breasts was a widespread lettering of 'Shepard' stood out with sharp, jerky moves.

Resting her head in her hand Sofia drummed fingers rhythmically against her cheek. "Boys," she said.

"What?" The detective asked thinking it might have been meant for her but Shepard merely shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

"Certain obsessions tend to stick around even when with most bloodiest of occupations."

"Sounds like you know who we're dealing with," detective's eyes narrowed.

"That would be one way to concentrate the matter, yes." Shepard let out a sigh of mixed frustrations, "I did receive a note of sorts where he stated that he might be starting some killings with my name stapled over the bodies. A show of gratitude I suppose for causing a large enough distraction for him to flee the prison."

Detective gave her a dour look, "Next time do me a favor and check their background before you help them out of the prison."

"Well, it was hardly my fault the prison had a large riot just when I happened to be there. Those were two completely unrelated happenings," the Commander sniffed, and then in swift change of mood shrugged nonchalantly, "Do not concern yourself, detective. Not more than necessary. I will look into this matter. It is the least I can do." It was also a very fun thing to do and mining for resources was such a dull chore. If only she had her Mako back… Ah, but wishful thoughts were not for such a moment.

"I suppose. It is better to resolve this quickly before more people die and this incident gets strapped to your name," Anaya said and pulled out her omni-tool. "Here are all the data we have gathered so far. It'll probably be of better use to you."

"Strapped to my name?" Shepard asked puzzled and then smiled as she remembered. "Oh such things do not bother me in the slightest," she waved her hands. "No, I am more concerned over his appetite for more of a difficult pray emerging and I find myself dealing with his shadow in the most inappropriate of times."

"Your set of priorities is truly inspiring," that was a twitch, laced with a solid dose of sarcasm from the detective.

"I do so try to do it all in line of necessity," Sofia nodded somberly. "Now, I shall go and hunt this infidel down immediately. If lady luck deigns to smile I shall be back doing laps on hell hound's command in maybe a day." She looked up at the silent law enforcer. A sigh. "He shall be in your esteemed custody by tomorrow." Talking to people who had no preexisting experience of her toying with language could prove to be a pain on occasion – on those occasions when she needed them to understand.

"I don't know how you can make a promise like that so soon Shepard. But if you do it, I'll not be the one to complain." Anaya said as couple of officers showed up with a bag to pick up the body.

Shepard allowed herself a small roll of her eyes. No one ever did actually. Except for turian Councilor – but he complained about his tea not being bitter enough after pouring a jar of sweetener in it, so he could hardly count. But enough about dull and mundane days sugarcoated in reality.

She had plans for a murderer to entertain.

*/*/*/*/*

Shepard walked up and down the blue and white steps and streets of Illium in something resembling a daze - and it only resembled such because she was very much aware of the world around her. Her mind worked with sharp turns and punctuations, not unlike those moments of fast-paced conversations she and Mordin had from time to even more often time. There was some real risk of salarian scientist getting suspicious of her abusing his persona for her own fun, she grumbled privately. She'd likely have to tone down her visits to the lab. Later though, that trouble can brew.

For now, she had to find a way to lure that boy into the open, and preferably in the vicinity of her gunpoint. That shouldn't be too hard considering that he had expressed a desire to see her in the pool of blood as well – unless he had changed his mind in the meantime, which would be even more troubling as, if such were the case, luring him out would pose an even bigger tantrum of problems. Had this been any other time in her long career of directing guns at living beings, she would take her time in hunting him down; track his movements, his habits, his go-to personnel, the good, enjoyable, tantalizing stuff. But even Sofia Shepard didn't have the luxury of all the time in the world, no matter what the galactic rumor mill might spill out.

These days she could not waste even the minuscule amount of time or stretch it to obnoxiously long proportions resembling tangled ball of wool, only so she could fit his arrest, trial and execution in her schedule – a modifiable one but still with a definitive end in plan. As she had a timetable to follow now, she'd have to satisfy herself with one thing only from here on. A prospect worthy of every dread.

She contemplated the assistance of one of the information brokers but that thought got pushed through the airlock of her mind quickly enough. They operate in a closed circle. What one knows, the other will get on his private messaging soon enough. And the third would use it as a napkin for his breakfast. She needed to control the flow of information if she wanted to get something advantageous out of it.

Besides, T'soni's sudden lack of shyness and timidity made her a no longer interesting of a bait to spend time around. The child asari she remembered was easy to tease and make her emotions go flip-flop on her whim until the poor creature was burning purple with embarrassment. Now that appeal was gone and Sofia no longer had any interest in former Dr. T'soni, and now the leading Information Broker of Illium's company.

Although, and also very grudgingly, she might have to consider forwarding that message about the Shadow broker. She considered it would be fair, …of sorts. A debt paid back. Mind you, this was all very rancorously pondered on. She was still undecided on that.

A thought zapped through her head like a little comet. Of course, there was another possibility. White-collar crime this was not but unless she was mistaken, and she never was, it will pull on that spark of interest the infiltrator still carried within her. Sofia grinned. She might even get to see a blood stain.

Tinkering with her omni-tool to send the message her head only shot up curiously when she heard a crash, followed by a string of curses capable of burning any species that had ears, ears off.

"Coachman Tali," Sofia hummed with interest approaching closer to observe the spectacle laced with so much profanity the conversation held the similarity to a fine frilly dress of bad, _bad_ words. "What are you up to?"

She watched the scene play out before her in a manner quite contrary to one at the Citadel. That quarian girl on her Pilgrimage was frightened and unsure, backing herself in the wall of procedure and prejudice with each uttered helmet-preprocessed word. Not that volus and C-Sec helped any. Compared to her, Tali had a largely different approach. Sofia watched as the small quarian jabbed and poked ruthlessly at volus' suit - and considering how both of their species were life-bound to it, this was a serious treat in making right there. In fact, there was no comparison possible. The Citadel quarian wrung herself into the corner with a knotted tongue, while Tali'Zorah on the other hand...

"Did you think I wouldn't notice the fluctuations in the energy flux? Or how the core oscillates? Or maybe how it would blow up my hands if I should let it work for prolonged periods of time? That I would not trace it back to you and your faulty wears?"

Tali'Zorah was in fact ready to eviscerate him from his suit. In fact, Shepard eyed something that suspiciously looked like the orange of her omni-tool flaring up. Sofia arched one eyebrow. Everyone present did - it was turning to be quite a spectacle when the little quarian tried to lift the volus off the ground and shake him until he fell out of that suit - or until he spews out the money back. Shepard was of the opinion - no, the current law of reality was governed by stated, the former was more plausible to happen.

"You can take it up with manufacturer if you want, I only distribute the goods." The volus waved it off but still kept backing away until he bumped against the kiosk quite harshly, and even the numerous asari present have backed away. Whether because it would be unseemly to be seen with such ruffians or because the quarian girl was rising the levels of aggression to the point that a commando might be necessary for this to be resolved without incidents - an exaggeration to be sure, but a quarreling quarian was a much more difficult to deal with than a meek, thieving one. A brutal miscalculation on galactic community's part, in Sofia's earnest opinion.

"I want every single credit that went for this piece of trash back or I can guarantee you that you and your reputation will not recover enough for you to do business on Illium again!" Her onmi-tool glowed brightly now, and as omni-blades have become somewhat of a popular hazard as of late, it did bring up a certain note of concern.

"You can't ask that," he shook his head. "The contract was agreed on and signed by your 'friend', and the certificate guarantees at least 10 years of continuous work," the volus sniffed, taking in deep breaths of his native atmosphere. "Besides, the percent of something like that actually happening is minimal."

"Well, guess what?" Tali purred - because everything she said sounded like a purr to a degree. Sofia thought it to be creepy, unsettling and utterly fantastic. "That small percent came to knock your kiosk down."

Sofia watched with pride and pure non-involvement, how Tali made the merchant back up, cough up and pay up. The joys of intimidating the little people into their place… She well and truly enjoyed such moments, but it was always prudent not to get caught up in them because then… then the little people rise up, blindside you and become larger than life. She spoke from experience naturally. So she continued to observe the technician patiently, until Tali turned around and saw Shepard stand there with a spark in her eye and a secured grin on her face.

"What a mess?" Tali said with added several choice words directed at the volus merchant, "Did you see the whole thing?"

The Normandy's Commander just nodded her head and wiped a non-existent tear from the corner of her eye. "Oh nothing but witnessing the greatest moment of our little Tali'Zorah growing up and showing thieving vagabonds into their proper place with a sense of justice and non-compromise. And to think only few short months ago have you blindly ran into dark corridors chasing faulty rumors."

"That was two years ago Shepard. Closer to three, in fact," Tali tried to correct her commander exasperated but was cut short.

Sofia clicked her tongue. "Time is relative in the eye of the beholder! Matter and point being crucial here, the happenings here made me feel very proud."

"Really? Asking for a refund doesn't seem like much to be proud of," Tali muttered.

"Ah, but showing pre-cognitive knowledge and intuition when your friend and partner purchases faulty appliance, and then rushing into the jaws of mercantile empire to correct grievous error on both sides is," Shepard listed the quarian's accomplishments of the day and laughed. "Garrus really ought to start checking and testing before moving on to shopping. Or at least, he should show some pre-emptive awareness and take you with him the next time."

Tali looked up, and what emotions sizzled and dazzled behind that obscuring helmet was a mystery at best, then shook her head. "How'd you know?" Shepard merely shrugged at her inquisitive gaze. She had a way, and a habit, of rubbing against matters not directly related to her, like a cat suddenly appearing sitting behind one's feet and make them trip when they least expect it.

"Now," Sofia started, "will you share with your captain what had happened and of what magnitude to make you desire to claw that poor and only somewhat corrupted merchant's eyes out?"

"It's nothing. Probably nothing," Tali started, then corrected herself. "It's just that I haven't heard from the Flotilla in a while."

"Would that be unusual?" Shepard cut in, prompting her further.

"Not really. Sometimes we can go without contact for a long periods of time. I know they wouldn't let me know anything about the data we've recovered," here her voice cut into a little bout of bitterness at the lives lost on Haestrom. "But I have at least expected to hear how Kal'Reegar is doing," She shook her head with a small sigh. "Like I said, it's probably nothing."

"And so long as it remains nothing, no nightmares will disturb your sleep. Except for the self-induced ones caused by unfounded worry. For everything else, there is always the venerable shotgun solution – be it verbal, or a more literal interpretation," Shepard's eyes twinkled merrily with red shine. Absolutely not unsettling in any way – so long as you have spent good couple of years serving under her.

"Thanks, Shepard. You've been really supportive lately. Not just me, but the entire crew."

"Haven't I been always?" Shepard answered thoughtfully. "And more importantly, isn't that the duty of any self-respecting ship's captain?"

"On quarian ship, sure. But you've been going out of your way to help out be offer a shoulder to lean on. Not that I'm complaining, or saying that you shouldn't be doing that, but with everything at stake and so little time… keelah… I don't even know what I'm saying."

Sofia shrugged with a smile.

"You can safely blame Cerberus. That three-headed poodle gave me an incomplete ship and no resources, which are all very much necessary to bring it up to the level where I don't have to forcibly dive in the starry sea again and have a good view of the other side. I so happen to have the time to burn in a productive manner."

"Well whatever it is, Shepard, you should know that the crew appreciates everything you've done for them so far."

"And, oh, how that opinion is in danger of changing once we pass the Omega's gates."

"They'll stand behind you. All of us will."

Shepard chuckled. "Key word being present - 'behind'. Oh, do not make that face behind that mask. I am fully capable of appreciating the notion of my crew and team being able and content." Shepard then glanced at the docking are. "Now go, before Garrus fries something else during his calibrations."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"There is doubt in my mind that the whole of Palavan wouldn't let it go if the joke ever got out," she laughed, then paused and then frowned in thought. And then grinned some more.

"Shepard."

A wider grin.

"He won't appreciate that. At all."

"Oh fine! I'll keep my mouth shut about turians and their fixation on calculations and calibrations."

"Thank you."

"But it could have been such a good story for posterior."

Tali just gave her 'the look', behind the mask, and with a shake of her head left the Commander. Sofia watched Tali leave, quarian's eyes focused on her omni-tool and still somehow managing not to walk into anything or anyone on her way to Normandy. Or get pick-pocketed. Or stabbed. Or something else that involves having your attention elsewhere while unhelpful bystanders induce unfortunate accidents.

Shepard just grinned at the workings of the universe and leaned against the balcony, with her back turned to the glorious vista.

The crew was behind her all the way, Tali had said. Sofia couldn't keep the burst of bubble-like laughter inside, and smiled contentedly. That was their purpose, and with a little touch of her own, they'll soon be mesmerized enough to walk into the line of fire on her behest.

That was why the Illusive Man had placed them aboard Normandy. Why every other crew-member had a child recently born, a family in outer colony under a threat to be whisked away under moment's notice. It was why someone as clueless as Gardener was on the ship. Moral. Sympathy. A human face for the three-headed dog to hide behind. Too bad her opinion of humans lay below that of single-celled organisms.

If the Illusive Man had really studied her profile as he often bragged about then he should be aware of it. And if in his own zeal of forwarding humanity's advancement he had assumed that every member of human race carried their own special place in their heart for their own kind – then it was a brand of stupidity she could make of use of.

The Illusive Man wanted her to get attached to her crew? To have their inevitable deaths drive her forward even harder? She would do him one better. There will be no deaths. Not while she was commanding the Normandy.

Ludicrous? Impossible? Insane? Unfair? Shepard thrived on the impossible. It was the food she nourished her soul with. Suicide mission? No. It will be children's garden party with high velocity weapons of mass destruction. With her at the head of it.

Her omni-tool lit up with a small blipping noise, signaling an incoming message.

"Club Eternity, 19.00 hours. I really hope you know what you're doing. G.P."

Sofia pushed away from the balcony wall and stretched her back.

This was going to be fun.

*/*/*/*/*


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: **English is not my native language so mistakes will happen. Read, and in the case you enjoyed, and have not forgotten entirely about this story (and if you have, know that I'm not blaming you a single microscopic little bit), review.

Segment II ~ Rough Seas

*ch11.

Garrus felt like making a hole through the panel before him by any creative means necessary would be the most progressive thing he had done for this day. He was a simple turian so a fist would do. He went over it in his head, again.

Every time he thought he did the calculation just right – no, he knew he had done it right – the number would end up being off by a margin someone of his calibrating capabilities, no small modesty here, would never make. At some point he grabbed the support rails and squeezed, leaving light scratch marks. He sighed, shook his head, and grumbled something about Cerberus engineers. He wasn't doing anything here, for some reason, and left the battery.

Further down on the crew deck and sitting at the table he saw, Zach he believed his name was, going through three screens at the time at rapid pace. When he approached the engineer dug his fingers through his hair and pulled with a frustrated growl and then dug the balls of his palms in his eyes.

"Did the extranet poker arcade go off the grid or was the appointment with Sha'ira rescheduled?" Garrus quipped not a little bit curious at what got the human in such a tight ball of frustration.

"I wish it had," Zach said through teeth clenched tight. "At least then I'd know I'd get to meet her eventually and not be stuck here for the rest of the eternity doing these _stupid_ calculations over and over again." He paused, rubbed his forehead and looked at Garrus tiredly. "I can't get the shuttle up and running. The Hammerhead started acting up a day ago, and now I'm locked out of some minor systems in the shuttle bay."

Oh, someone else with a problem? His assessment of Cerberus' shipbuilding team's abilities being so flimsy the krogan would do better at tearing it down then rebuilding it from rubble, was correct. And it was worth to mention that they still had the collectors hanging around their collective necks. Of course there would be problems. "Do the vehicles have some kind of mechanical problem? Because if so, _we're_ going to have a problem getting anywhere."

The engineer shook his head, "Everything _is_ in working condition but every time I start it up, it powers down, on its own and without any input from me." He tensed his shoulders and turned his face back to the multiple screens, combing again through each one with quick wrist movements, "I've combed through every part of it, EDI says there is no permanent impairment to the systems… And I have no idea what to try next. Hell, I don't even know what happened in the first place."

"When did it start?" Garrus asked now feeling a bit of stress transferring over from human to him.

"On the ship? Maybe a day ago. But the shuttle has been acting up since the Commander came back up from Neith."

"The planet where ship full of faulty mechs crashed?" Garrus rumbled, half inquiry, half 'it's obvious' drawl.

The man's eyes opened very, very widely. "You don't mean- No way EDI would let something like that slip past her!" But he was already up on his feet and rushing to the AI core.

*/*/*/*/*

The beat was heavy and the flashing lights of many colors danced across the faces of the patrons. A quiet family gathering place during the day, Club Eternity turned into blue vixen wearing neon tattoos instead of panties parlor. Usually, Sofia avoided places like this with fervor. It tended to dig out memories which had no business walking around painted in undead colors.

As she observed she noticed that Matriarch of dubious pedigree was not behind the bar and not anywhere in sight or biotic blast for that matter. Which was curious considering the type of crowd night attracted and a heavy hand of lordship it might require.

It wasn't uncommon for armored individuals who stalked the streets, to stalk the bars as well. Violence was the trade of many on Illium. So it happened that Shepard didn't draw stares because she had armor and weapons strapped to her hips; Shepard exuded presence to equal intoxication about at 4am. And despite that, no one had approached her at the bar where she sat with a glass still painfully full.

In all honesty this made things by far simpler for her for she would have preferred not to waste time with rebutting advances of the local patrons, most of whom were asari, whilst waiting for her date. She also hopped she would not leave her hanging, especially when she had gone to trouble to even arrange a date for the first time in great many years.

Still, she was being watched, by eyes hungry for more than meager conversation over drinks.

She watched the asari Matriarch occasionally work the rag over the bar in between serving a drink or one of her opinions. A rag. In this day and age. But without much exaggeration, Sofia often felt like a rag – smoothing over the filth others have spilled. In other words, she was indispensable. Filthy, but damn if the existence didn't need her.

Bringing her eyes up she spotted Gianna walking in, and her her figure, ah so well trained into blending in, immediately glided over to the free stool next to one Shepard was occupying.

"This is some exclusive place to have a beer."

"Only the best when I work," Shepard raised her palms dismissively.

"Don't you mean when you're on break?"

"Miss Parasini, the greatest human of galactic history is never 'on break'."

"Wow. How modest of you."

"No. It's how honest of me," Sofia grinned and laughed. "But truly – bubblegum pink?"

"It doesn't stand out any more than an armor painted with a red dragon on it," Gianna took one right back at her. "I don't need my targets to have one look at me and think _danger_."

Shepard rubbed her chin whilst pondering that. _That_ being the sheer amount of danger and destruction she was visibly loaded with. True, she had that awfully comfortably elegant _black_ uniform back on the ship but it somehow didn't feel right to wear all of Cerberus glory stitched to every inch of her. People were shooting at her enough as it was. But something more appropriate would have probably been better. Like something that had no gun of hers visibly immediately. Well, as she was on Illium she might as well indulge herself a little. Later.

"Now, this little job-of-sorts that I would have you do…"

"I read the message. You want me to find a knife?"

"Not any knife. A combat knife."

"Are you even aware how many of those there are?"

"Not many from early 20th century Earth, first Great War era to be precise – I can tell you with grave certainty. It is in exceptionally well kept condition – it has to be to cut through flesh."

"Excuse me?" Prasini lowered the glass she was holding close to her lips. No one said anything about flesh cutting.

"Trifles," Commander Shepard smoothed over it instantly. "In this regard what I need of you is- Miss Prasini, your attention please."

"You got it, just… isn't that your ship flying away?" Gianna asked gesturing over Shepard's shoulder at the smooth-looking ship with Cerberus' black and yellow symbol pasted on its side gliding away between Illium's skyscrapers. Sofia let out a small questioning hum before her head whipped to the side just in time to see Normandy SR-2 elegantly accelerate towards higher atmosphere. In a flash she was on her feet, vaulted over nearby occupying table and, pointedly ignoring half-krogan Matriarch's disapproving gaze, skirted out into the narrow terrace.

She arrived just in time to have a clear look at Normandy's taillights disappearing into the sunset, and for a moment she could only stand there with her mouth hanging open.

"D- did-" she stuttered even! Sofia Shepard never did stutter. "Did my ship just leave her captain marooned on a hostile planet?" A moment passed with the first human Spectre just standing there, mouth hanging open and childlike expression on her face. It was a sight for any passerby, even if they didn't know who she was. A thing or two clicked and connected in her mind the way they would never in someone of more stable persuasion; and then she was screaming.

"Oh yes! Freedom is a sweet, sweet intoxicating aphrodisiac of old!" She whirled about eagerness permeating her every movement and thought of all the little things she could do now. Maybe even drag out her search for Billy.

Merrily she, almost- Ah! Who was going to see her anyway? – She skipped along while whistling a tune back inside, again ignoring Matriarch's now sizzling glare. She sat back on her seat next to Gianna, who wore a very puzzled and very amused look, and very unsettling look at the toothy green the Commander was now spotting. Sofia cleared her throat with a small cough and put on her 'business' face of seriousness.

"Now, we were discussing a very serious matter of you experiencing the thrill of a wasted opportunity."

*/*/*/*/*

Sofia skipped a step as she glided down the streets while making his way to the lower levels of Illium. Gianna would do her part, both to repay her debt – twice now, and out of curiosity. Of course, there was a danger of premature death but it all fell into the category of thrill seeking, no?

"No…" she halted with a whimpering wale. Heels acting as breaks when she saw a familiar figure of perfect poise and such calmness that made the people on the street go around him and not be aware of it. His solemn figure stood out particularly well in that 'won't see him coming until he strikes'. It didn't make her appreciate him anymore. In fact, the opposite was true. He was hoarding more kills on the efficient and elegant level than she ever had. Silently, she resented that.

Sofia had to take a deep breath. Of the calming sort, when facing battles of futility. Her freedom was short-lived.

"Mr. Krios," she started with a smile that could cut biotic barriers, "Such an utterly unexpected occurrence to see you here. On the planet. And decidedly not on the ship. _Why?_" The last word dripped with acidic ooze.

Thane seemed utterly unperturbed by every next word in line slowly taking over the shape of daggers and torture devices of ages past. "Officer Lawson believed it prudent not to leave you to your own devices while EDI deals with the cold." The last word twisted a little with a small smile that appeared as he spoke.

Of course Officer Miranda Lawson would. She has every file possible on her, and she saw yeoman Chambers leaving her office more than once, and with her clothes still intact so it couldn't have been a social meeting. The control chip may be out of the question but a little supervision would hardly hurt anyone. Except cut short all those sweet little moments that belonged to her alone. Shepard's eyes narrowed in furious contemplation. The very next time the opportunity presents itself she was going to lock Jack, Miranda and a box of classified Cerberus files in one room and leave them over night to stew. And after that she will have Kelly high on chocolate and rum and throw her in as well, let them cook for another night; then present Dr. Chakwas with a new set of surgical tools to sort out the pieces-

Her thoughts took a sudden sharp turn. "EDI has a cold?"

That smile didn't disappear. If possible, it grew larger by a fraction.

"A minor problem with a virus. EDI is certain that she can fully take care of it but had advised to purge the source of its origin. Or that is how she had chosen to explain it."

*/*/*/*/*

The ship shook a bit. Shuddered actually. It wasn't noticeable, and certainly not something completely out of the ordinary – but it shook at times when it wasn't supposed to. And Joker could feel it.

"Usually, in situations like this it is recommended to lay still and have some rest."

"Such thing is hardly applicable to me Mr. Morro."

"Well, we wouldn't be shaking as much if we just stayed at the docks and wait until you purged your system."

"This is not a hacking attempt. The VI is not complex enough to permanently damage any of my process. It is simply-"

"Making a nuisance of itself. Got it."

"That is one way of putting it. I'd like to examine the original code to better _expel it_. The code could also be modified to be used against other ships in cyber-warfare."

"Hey, wouldn't it be great if we could just spread the infection to the Collectors' ship? Taken down by a common cold! Sounds like something from 20th century fiction."

"There is no guarantee that they would experience the same… _anomalies_ as I have," the AI sounded genuinely annoyed at the situation she was experiencing. It made Joker chuckle – but only a bit. "Furthermore, testing should prove if the code can be usable in such manner at all."

"Right. Get to the factory, get the AI equivalent of pneumonia, spread the love," Joker merrily cited. In the background there was something that suspiciously resembled a sigh.

*/*/*/*/*

Shepard's bewilderment was only slightly smaller than her joy. As she found amusement in the strangest of things, and sometimes the deadliest, the prospect of ship's AI having an equivalent of a _cold_ was… _golden_. Her fingers danced across her face hiding her ever-widening smile.

"Now you made me wish I was there to see it."

"EDI is already perturbed enough that the crew had found out about it."

"A minor malfunctioning VI is causing her to glitch. Perturbed is a rather gentle word there you have chosen to use." She looked at him with eyes narrowed. "I assume, correctly, you are not here on your own," she gestured.

"Zaeed Massani came as well," the drell answered evenly.

No, it wouldn't be Kasumi. Or Jacob. Or anyone else halfway to stability and sane mind.

"It could be no other way, naturally. The assassin and the bounty hunter. There is a sensation I simply cannot shake that I am to star in a book of intergalactic misadventures." Who else would be inane enough to follow the one, crazy, Commander Shepard on an outing they knew nothing about. Not a word she spoken later the bounty hunter made his appearance, swagger and confidence, and neither boasted beyond raw truth of his abilities and survival rate. He looked down at Shepard, who was smaller than him by a head at least, held her eyes for a short moment and then proceeded to light a cigarette.

"So, who're we killing today?"

"Killing, Sir Massani? Do you take me to be that much of a common murderer?" Which she was. "I have obligations, duties towards local law enforcement and the safety of indigenous population. Killing? How is that even an option here when lives are at stake?" She started but immediately and without missing a heartbeat into innocence and puzzlement.

Zaeed nodded, "Must be one unfortunate bastard then."

Sofia felt some of her muscles spasm. In this universe there were people who simply could not be fooled by anything - not that she was trying particularly hard, her day was successfully ruined and she wasn't above pettiness of in turn ruining someone else's. The reason behind that was usually experience on a god given level. Zaeed Massani was one of those men who walked through life with a bullet in his head, taunting the creation to try and do him a worse one. The fact that this completely improbable but true situation trumped her own miraculous resurrection – he, after all, received a _bullet to his head_ and _survived_ - was just an icing on a bitter cake that ate at her ego.

"Why are, pray tell, _you_ even here?" She asked with rarely used clarity.

He let out a thick puff of smoke that shrouded the upper part of his face in a mist, "Because the chick in a black cat-suit said so."

"Miranda gives the order and you feel happily obliged to act on her behalf as the nursemaid of the Commander Shepard?"

Zaeed shrugged, "It pays the bills."

Pays the- Sofia huffed internally. Did he even have any bills to pay? Beyond the one that was important to him, she knew, but she was not about to taunt him with that one card up her sleeve.

"I'm afraid she was being quite insistent," Thane nodded almost apologetically. Almost. Sofia was suspicious that he might have been gleaning some sort of amusement form this situation, conversation and her reactions, but she could not say so for sure. She had yet to penetrate the depths that he was made out of that would allow her to predict his behavior successfully and to a level she could make use of.

In turn, she glanced at Zaeed. This suicide mission didn't need all to survive. Some drama is always good motivation for the crew and a death of a capable crewmate can be just a thing to steer the rest in the direction she wanted. Her red and violet cybernetic eyes slid over to drell assassin. Or two deaths. Heavens know that her ego had always had the trouble of tolerating murderers in her vicinity who did a better job of killing than her.

"Is that so?" Someone was very obviously regretting never installing that control chip. She made up her mind as the new plan begun to take shape between the creases of her brain, "Might as well use what I can the best way I know I can." She made a wide gesture with her arm at the streets of Illium spreading around them, "Let's set the tents and tell the people that the circus is back in town. I have set the stage for a show and I intend to make it grandiose."

*/*/*/*/*


	12. Author's Note

Well, it has come to this; I'm sad to say that the day is finally here when I have to admit defeat and say that this story is as of now **DISCONTINUED**.

I'll say this: it is **not** due to my Muse drying up - because I still have many ideas left for Sofia Shepard's (mis)adventures, but after ME3 (not the endings, I liked the endings, it's the rest of the game that I found horrid) my love for Mass Effect universe has been evaporating steadily, culminating with the EC when it rolled out. Not even head-cannoning my way through the story helped seeing how the game was head-cannon-proofed when Bioware's "canon" storyline and Shepard took the stage.

In any case, I'd sooner stop writting this story now while it still has some sense and love to it, and before it disolves into a mess because of my struggle with trying to write about a universe and characters I no longer care about.

I give my thanks to all who followed and read, quietly or with reviewes, and especially to those who just read and enjoyed this crazy Shepard's story. It has meant a world to me.


End file.
